


Shattered

by Kiar



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Death, Emotions, Explicit Language, Mind Control, Possession, Probably some angst tbh, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-05-15 21:19:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 46,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14798163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiar/pseuds/Kiar
Summary: After the genocide run, Frisk refuses Chara's offer to exchange their soul for the ability to return to the Underground. As Frisk's stubbornness becomes increasingly apparent, however, Chara devises a new plan. They might not have been able to control Frisk, but human souls are notoriously strong, and there's a whole Underground of monsters far more ripe for manipulation...





	1. Frisk

“heh, didja really think you would be abl—”

The knife carved through his bones like a hot iron through snow. He melted away where it touched, dust before comprehension even had a chance to dawn in his gaze. Sans stumbled back, falling to the ground with a soft gasp of pain and surprise. He touched his chest and his hand came away red. A chuckle caught in his throat, turning into a cough.

“so… guess that’s it, huh?”

Frisk looked away as they wiped the knife on the front of their shirt. The smudge it left behind was lost against rags already saturated with dust.

 _Watch him,_ their conscious said. _Watch him fade away._

Frisk looked up as Sans staggered to his feet; his gaze was distant and unfocused. Dust fell away as he straightened, then sloughed off in greater waves with each step as he began to limp away. Was it just another trick?

 _No,_ they thought. _No trick._

“welp. i’m going to grillby’s.”

Frisk could see through his shirt, where they’d cut a hole through his ribs and sternum. The faint glow of a monster soul flickered through for a moment. Then he shifted so they couldn’t see its light anymore—or perhaps it had stopped glowing.

“papyrus,” Sans said, haltingly. “do you want anything?”

Frisk didn’t have to watch to know the moment he died; they could feel it in their own soul, the nauseating, addictive taste of leveling up. Frisk’s stomach roiled and their limbs began to shake. They stuck out a hand to steady themselves against a pillar as they tried to settle their stomach. Their conscious scoffed.

 _Don’t go soft on me now,_ it said. _We’re almost there; keep moving forward. Never look back._

Frisk left the Judgement Hall behind. Despite leaving the room—the room Frisk had spent hours (days?) in while fighting Sans, the room where they had died countless time, of which every square inch had been painted with their blood in one load or another—their anxiety grew with every step that left it farther behind. The air was sweet and heavy with the scent of flowers, and it only exasperated Frisk’s nausea. But they couldn’t stop themself from continuing on. They moved without thinking, as if they’d traversed the castle a thousand times.

The King stood in the Throne Room, his back turned.

 _Strike now,_ their conscious urged. _How arrogant, keeping his back to the door! He_ knew _we were coming. He should be punished._

Frisk held themself back, but only just. Their knife hand twitched of its own accord, but grew deathly still when the King turned to face them.

A look of confusion passed over his face. “Erm… what kind of monster are you?”

 _Now,_ their conscious said. _Strike now, now!_

Frisk’s blood boiled with determination. They stepped forward and drew the monster into an encounter. He objected, but Frisk could only hear anticipation roaring in their ears. Excitement and bloodlust crowded their thoughts until their own desires were overrun by their conscious. Their grip tightened around their weapon, and their legs tensed. They wanted to see his dust in the flowerbed. They wanted to see fear in his eyes. They wanted him to pay for his idleness, for his refusal to do his duty, they wanted him to _understand_ what they’d felt—

It was over before Frisk even realized they’d moved. The King fell to a knee before them, his form barely holding together as licks of dust blew from his wound.

“Why… you…” the King managed. Giddiness boiled up and overflowed from Frisk’s mind, pouring a crazed smile on their face. They raised their knife for the finishing blow, relishing the moment.

But it was taken from them. A ring of bullet seeds struck through Asgore, shattering his soul and turning him to a pile of dust. Frisk stared in a moment of shock, as a flower rose, simpering, from the garden. No, this couldn’t be. This was their moment. Their opportunity for revenge. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. _This wasn’t how it was supposed to go._

Flowey flinched back as Frisk loosed a scream of raw malice. Their mind was screaming as well, drowning out the small, distant corner of Frisk’s mind that was scared and confused and horrified by their own actions. The flower was stuttering its way through some sort of explanation, but Frisk could only hear the roar of anger reverberating in their own head, outraged by the injustice that their kill had been robbed. Frisk bent beneath the weight of their rage and succumbed to the impulse to unleash their anger, stabbing the flower through even as it begged for its own life.

And they didn’t stop stabbing. They slashed and they slashed and they funneled every ounce of determination into their blows, trying not to merely kill it, but to disfigure the weed beyond all recognition. Hadn’t he learned by now? This was the _last_ time he would get in their way.

It was when the shredded vines and pedals were laying in a disarayed heap, finally crumbling to dust, that the force of their hatred became too much for Frisk to bear. Killing Sans—killing Asgore—even killing Flowey—it just _wasn’t enough_ . It did nothing to fill their bottomless pit of hatred, nothing to sate their thirst for revenge. And now they were here, at the end with nothing left, but they still _needed more_ . What was it that they craved? What would fill this void? The pressure built, but now there was no outlet. Nothing more to kill. Instead the contempt turned inwards, and Frisk felt something in their mind dig deeper, push harder, searching for an answer—any answer. And just when Frisk thought they could endure no more they experienced the briefest flicker of illumination—followed immediately by a disturbing and unmistakable _crack_ from deep within their soul.

Darkness. Silence. It was like getting pulled into an encounter, except this time there was no menu, and Frisk was left to float in nothingness, unable to see or hear or touch. They meant to gasp, but found themself without a body. All that existed was a blackness so absolute that it almost seemed physical—but instead of panic, for the first time in a very long time, they felt at peace.

 _Finally,_ they thought. They had missed the quiet. It was like a smothering blanket had lifted from their mind, and they could now think clearly. They hadn’t realized as it had been happening how confused and numb they had become, but now that they were themself again they knew something terrible had happened. Slowly, reluctantly, Frisk began to recall all the carnage they had wrought. It hadn’t entirely been them… but they had let it happen. Their conscious—no, not a conscious, it was something else entirely—had been shaping their actions for a long while now. And with creeping dread, Frisk realized that entity was not gone: they were merely watching.

“Greetings,” the figure said as it manifested before them. It was a child, just like Frisk, but there was something darker, something deeper lurking behind their empty eyes.

“I am Chara.” Frisk could see them speak, but it sounded as if Frisk’s own voice was coming from their mouth, and if it weren’t for the cruel, amused undertones that accompanied their speech Frisk wasn’t sure they would have been able to tell the difference at all. “Thank you,” they said. “Your power awakened me from death.”

A cold fear ran through Frisk. “Who are you?” they thought back. “ _What_ are you?”

Chara continued as if they hadn’t heard. “At first I was so confused. Why was I brought back to life?” The child smiled without any happiness. “It was _you_ . With your guidance, I realized the purpose of my reincarnation.” With the last word, Frisk felt a painful quake within their soul. “ _Power_.”

“No,” Frisk said. “It wasn’t me! I didn’t want that.”

“Together, we eradicated the enemy and became strong.”

“They weren’t the enemy,” Frisk said, but their protest felt weak. “They were my friends.” Then why had they hurt them? Why had they given into Chara’s suggestions? They hadn’t even fought back. Not even a little.

Chara, as if hearing these thoughts, only giggled. “Now… we have reached the absolute. There is nothing left for us here. Let us erase this pointless world, and move onto the next.”

Chara held out their hand, and something dark pulsed in their palm. It was familiar, veiny, and dead, and just looking at it made Frisk feel like they were staring at a limb that had been severed from their body. Frisk grasped their aching chest.

“Is that… is that part of my soul?”

Chara smirked, shaking their head with condescension. “Is that what it feels like? I’m not surprised. You helped nurse it back to life, after all. No,” they said, clutching it to their chest. “This much is _me_. Barely even a sliver of what I was. But that’s enough. My determination is far more pure than yours, you see.” And as Frisk watched they indeed could make out that the jagged fraction of a soul was a deep, bloody shade of red. Once more, Chara extended their hand. “But wouldn’t it look better as part of a whole? We’re two pieces of a puzzle, you and I. We need each other.”

Despite having no control over their body in the null space, Frisk was already trying to pull away. “No, no, I won’t. I won’t help you any longer.”

Frisk reached for their ability to reset, but grasped emptiness.

“Oh,” Chara said, “looking for these?” Behind them a display of gold words flickered into existence: Continue, Reset. “I’m afraid they don’t belong to you anymore.”

“No, please,” Frisk begged. “I have to fix it!”

Chara was unimpressed. “You want to go back to the world you destroyed? It was _you_ who pushed everything to its edge. It was _you_ who led the world to its destruction.”

“It wasn’t,” Frisk said. Their soul ached deeply. “It wasn’t…”

“You can believe what you like,” Chara shrugged. “It doesn’t matter to me. But it seems our goals may not be so at odds. I need a body, and you need these powers. Both of these desires can easily be met… if you give me your soul.”

Frisk recoiled, their revolt as clear as any verbal response.

“Well,” Chara said, “I can’t say I’m surprised. You’d rather let your friends stay dead than compromise. Hm. Perhaps you need some time to reflect upon your choices.” Abruptly, Chara vanished, and Frisk was left alone in the black. Their presence only lingered long enough to deliver a final, parting promise. “Perhaps an eternity of oblivion will change your mind.”

And they were gone.

. . .

 

Chara made good on their word. The darkness was endless, and try as Frisk might they could not conjure any form into the black like Chara had been capable of. Left without any source of distractions, they had no company but their own thoughts.

They were not good thoughts. Again and again Frisk recalled all the monsters they had slain and all the friendships they had betrayed. They hated themself for what they had done—all the more sour knowing it could have been avoided, had they not succumbed to the desire to go back and live it all over again. Frisk tried to pinpoint the moment Chara had awoken and started to influence their actions, but was disheartened to find they couldn’t make out any specific turning point. Chara certainly hadn’t been there the first time Frisk had killed. That was their own fault. Of course, back when they’d first fallen into the Underground they had been alone and scared, and hadn’t understood the frailty of monsters’ souls. Nearly a dozen froggits and whimsums had turned to dust before Frisk understood what they had done. Certainly, they had fixed it all the next time around, determined to show every monster mercy, but the weight of those first few deaths had never entirely lifted from Frisk’s shoulders. And now… now there was so much more.

Frisk wanted to cry, but that wasn’t possible in the void. There was no way to keep track of time or mark their bearings—no way to do anything but wait and think. Frisk wondered if the monotony would eventually drive them mad; forever was a long time, after all.

. . .

 

Frisk discovered that if they tried to think about nothing, they could sometimes slip into a zen-like state where they could almost forget they existed. It wasn’t like sleeping, really, but it was the only escape Frisk had found from their thoughts—even if it made remembering that much more painful when they came out of it. Frisk tried to spend most of their time doing this. It was better than wondering how long they’d been here, and how long they’d continue to be here. Wondering about things like that was too close to hope, and hope was a dangerous idea to entertain…

“So.”

Frisk came out of their trance to find Chara before them. It felt like a very long time since they’d last heard their voice. _Any_ voice.

“Have you reconsidered my offer?” Chara asked. “I believe you have had sufficient time to reflect on your actions.”

“No,” Frisk said.

“No?” Chara repeated, skeptical. “No, you haven’t had enough time?”

“I won’t give you my soul,” Frisk said. “Not ever.”

“Hm. That is disappointing,” Chara said. “You do realize you can never go back without my help? That you can never save your friends? I’m not asking for much, you must see. We’re simply changing roles. I was the passenger before, and you can be the passenger now. It’s not _that_ different. You’ll still be you. I’ll just have a little more say in matters. Are you sure we can’t find some compromise?”

Frisk wanted to go back. They wanted the darkness to end. But… “I won’t let you hurt anyone,” Frisk said. “Not again. You can’t have my soul.”

Chara _tsk_ ed. “I’d really hoped you’d come around. Very well. I will leave you to your darkness.”

“Wait,” Frisk called as Chara’s form vanished. As much as they feared and resented Chara, they weren’t ready to return to their isolation. “Don’t go…”

But they were already alone.

. . .

 

It wasn’t the last time Chara returned to ask for their soul. It was impossible for Frisk to tell how much time passed between each session, save by measuring how desperate for conversation they’d become each time. Frisk suspected Chara was growing impatient, and not waiting quite as long between their visits, but Frisk’s answer was always the same.

“No.”

“You can’t tolerate this forever,” Chara said.

Frisk suspected the same. But instead they said, “We’ll see.”

Then it was darkness again.

There was nothing to do but wait. Sometimes all this waiting made Frisk wonder if that meant they were getting older. Their body wasn’t, probably, but their mind had spent an awful lot of time in this place. Or did getting older only count if your body aged, too? Frisk had considered this briefly during the three times they’d reset, but it hadn’t really seemed important then. They’d just been curious about how they could do things differently. Now, it was one of the less distressing things they chose to think about. Did growing up happen automatically, or did it only happen through experiences? Did it take interactions with others—the opportunity to learn—or could they grow up in isolation? Frisk supposed they’d find out eventually, one way or another.

They were caught up in these thoughts when they felt a presence appear.

“Chara,” Frisk wearily greeted. It hadn’t been long since Chara’s last visit, but it wouldn’t surprise Frisk if they were trying a new strategy. However, Frisk’s greeting when unanswered, and after the silence persisted Frisk looked up to see Chara’s form nowhere in sight. Perplexed, Frisk looked around. They were alone.

“Chara?”

Frisk tried to pinpoint the presence they felt, but it was too faint. Either the source was very far away, or very weak—and If it was the latter, it certainly wasn’t Chara.

“...Hello?”

The presence didn’t approach. There was a small, muffled blip of _something_ —an emotion or intent? A word too distant to hear?—but otherwise it didn’t respond. Cautiously, Frisk tried to move towards it. As far as they knew there weren’t any real directions in this place, and moving toward or away from something operated mostly on will. But they might as well have been trying to chase the horizon, and the strange presence grew no closer. Frisk stopped.

“Who are you?” they called. Then another thought stuck them. “How did you get here? Can you get me out?”

This time, the presence responded. Something reached out and fell short, but for just a moment an echo of its essence rippled through Frisk.

And it scared them.

Frisk jerked away and gasped, “Chara!” The presence—the thing—was broken and unstable. It bore such resemblance to Chara’s withered soul that it took some time for Frisk to realize they were not one and the same. Frisk didn’t understand how something that felt so shattered and wrong could even exist. But by the time they’d gathered their courage to take another look, the presence had gone.

. . .

 

When Chara did return, it was sooner than usual.

“Hello,” they said. “Have you reconsidered my offer?”

“No,” Frisk said. They couldn’t remember how many times they’d had this conversation. “Never.”

“At least you’re consistent,” Chara shrugged. “As such, I’ve decided to let you go.”

Frisk froze, and their thoughts came to a screaching hault. Their mind had to be playing tricks on them, desperate to hear what they wanted. Surely, they’d misheard.

“...What did you say?” Frisk said.

Chara clicked their teeth. “Must I repeat myself? It’s clear we’ve reached an impasse, and the only way to break this stagnation is to try a different approach. So I’m letting you go. I’m letting you reset.” The golden letters manifested in the darkness before them.

Frisk reached out for the word, then hesitated. It was too easy, and Frisk certainly didn’t trust that Chara had had a change of heart. Either they wanted something, or…

“You’re scared,” Frisk realized.

There was a pause. Then Chara snapped, “What?”

“That’s why you didn’t wait so long this time,” Frisk said. “You’re scared, because we’re not alone, right?”

Chara’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”

“The other soul,” Frisk said. “I felt it. You must have, too… Do you know what they are? What they want?”

“Hmph.” Chara folded their arms. “The other soul doesn’t matter—and it certainly doesn’t _scare_ me! Now can we get back to the matters at hand?”

They _were_ scared, Frisk was sure of it. Maybe they weren’t scared of the strange soul, exactly, but Chara craved control, and if there was one thing they feared, it was losing that control. If nothing else, the Underground was familiar terrain.

“If we go back,” Frisk said, “I’m not giving you my soul.”

“Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear,” Chara said. “Which is why I will only make this offer once. I will let you return to the Underground and change whatever events you desire. No strings attached. One last do-over.”

Frisk didn’t answer right away, but it was only pretense. Of course they wanted to go back. If this was their chance to do so—no matter what Chara might be planning—they’d take it. They reached for the Reset button, and Chara didn’t stop them.

“I won’t let you take control of me this time,” Frisk said as they pressed the button. Relief spread through Frisk as the darkness began to crumble around them, and everything began to unwind.

Chara, however, only smiled. “Who said anything about taking control of you?” The void vanished, and Chara with it. Their last words followed Frisk back to the beginning, almost too distant to hear. “Monsters’ souls are so much easier to corrupt…”

 

Frisk sat up in a bed of yellow flowers. Overwhelmed by all their senses after so much time spent in the darkness, they gasped in a breath and squeezed their eyes shut. The ground felt too hard, the faint buzzing of insects too loud. Even the light through their eyelids was too much.

But through all that, there was another sense that was gone entirely. A sense they’d hadn’t been fully aware of until they’d lost it. There was a tranquility in their head. Quiet, and calm, and empty.

“Chara?” Frisk whispered. But they’d known it before they’d even asked.

Chara was gone.


	2. Sans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reset.

Sans awoke in a panic, stifling a scream as he clawed at his chest. Phantom pain slashed across his ribs, and he lashed out blindly for the enemy—only to succeed in throwing his blanket across the room instead. The twilit yellow of his dream began to fade as he gasped in a few steadying breaths. It had only been a nightmare. He was in Snowdin. He was home.

Sans groaned with relief as he flopped back down on his matress. What an awful dream. He could still recall that slash of a knife with vivid clarity… and the pain of his bones dissolving to dust. Sans grimaced, absently rubbing the ribs in question. It had felt so real.

Rolling over on his side Sans tried to get back to sleep, which was typically an activity he excelled at. Every time he closed his eyes, however, the gaze of that crazed, human child was there in the darkness, staring back. Sans forced the image away, but other equally unsettling visuals rose to fill its place.

“so it’s gunna be like this, huh?” Sans sighed and pushed himself up. Maybe he just needed to clear his head. His brother would suggest he get some fresh air. Take a walk.

“heh,” Sans chuckled. Walking was for chumps. Taking a shortcut to his lab, Sans landed by the door and flicked the light on.

The lab was Sans’ thinking place. He came here any time he needed to work through a problem, which—as was evidence by the film of dust that covered every surface—had not happened in a very long time. Something about the place put Sans in a frame of mind to see things more clearly. It wasn’t big, and it wasn’t clean, but it was his.

Sans skooched an untouched blueprint aside and hopped up onto his work desk, drumming his legs against the drawers. The opposing wall was blue and entirely uninteresting, but Sans wasn’t really looking at it anyway. He let the old, musty smell of the lab overpower his senses as he relaxed and unfocused his mind.

It kept coming back to that human. Sans had never even seen a human before—not outside of pictures—but the one in his nightmare had been remarkably detailed. From the frayed and dusty shirt to the deep red of its soul, the creature his mind had conjured up was fleshed out in every sense of the word. Uncanny, even.

It _had_ just been a dream, right?

“heh.” Sans stopped drumming his feet against the desk. “yeah right.”

Of course it had just been a dream. If he’d been murdered by a human then he wouldn’t be here now to think about, simple as that. Unbidden, his gaze drifted over to the old, broken machine which slouched in the corner of the room. Of course, time wasn’t an _entirely_ rigid concept…

“nope.” Sans hopped off the desk and paced to the other end of the room. “nope. no more timeline crap.” Nevertheless, he could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on. He turned back, frowning at the machine.

Sans had long since learned not to think about timeline shenanigans. Ever since the accident when—well, when _something_ had happened—his oldest memories had gotten a bit sketchy, and too much time spent dwelling on them often resulted in headaches. Instinct told him the lost bits of continuity had something to do with an anomaly in spacetime, but beyond that was anyone’s guess.

And here it was again, that telltale migraine that meant he was thinking about things he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about. But why? This had nothing to do with his childhood. He was just thinking about that damn dream, and the human child…

Sans shivered. The headache wasn’t going away. He sincerely hoped it was a coincidence but, well, he just wasn’t that naive.

“okay,” Sans said, leaning against the wall. “for argument’s sake. let’s say it _wasn’t_ a dream.”

Then what the hell did _that_ mean? In some other timeline a human child had come to the Underground and murdered him?

Sans couldn’t help but laugh—as much in nervousness as disbelief. Killed by a kid? Now that was just embarrassing. But did any of that even have anything to do with timeline anomaly? It seemed strange that two exceptionally rare events—a human coming to the Underground and time resetting—could occur within such short proximity of each other and not be related, but for the life of him he couldn't understand how the two were intertwined. Human mages could have had temporal abilities, he'd give them that, but if they had killed Sans to reach their goal, then why bother undoing it? It didn't make any sense. He was holding too few pieces of the puzzle, and none of them fit together. Searching for any scrap of information he could use to gain more context, Sans pushed his mind back, reaching across the timeline.

And he began to remember.

 _Deja vu_ was the first thing to hit him, so strong it almost knocked him off his feet. He’d been here before, thinking similar thoughts while trying to string together the scattered fragments of a dream he’d known wasn’t a dream. How many times that had happened Sans had know idea, but the fact that it had even happened once before was enough to scare him. Was he stuck in a time loop? No… No, something about this run was different.

First he remembered confusion. He'd woken up and something precious had vanished. Bewildered and distraught, he'd stumbled into the lab to sort things out, but the details had already been slipping away from him. His past self had snatched a pen and a scrap of paper off the desk and started to madly scribble down everything he could recall, but gradually his writing had begun to falter, and the memories of the other timeline had slipped through his fingers as easily as wind through his bones. When he'd come to an inevitable stop, he'd been left staring at a sheet filled with memories he couldn't remember having. Sans had stood there for a long time, slumped in defeat. Then he'd folded to paper in half, placed it in a drawer, and left.

Without much expectation, Sans crossed back over to his work desk and slid open the matching drawer; save for a few old pictures that gave him headaches to look at, the drawer was empty. Unsurprising, but he could hope.

So his old version had forgotten everything—and more than that he'd seemed sad to lose it. That marked two differences from the current timeline. Not that Sans wanted to forget what had happened, but dying a painful and traumatic death wasn't exactly in his top ten memories to relive.

So why did things turn out so different?

Sans started with what he could remember, and worked back.

The Judgement Hall. That had been one hell of a trip. Sans could recall fighting the kid, and feeling like he’d fought them before. Which of course, he had. A dozen—a hundred—times? Every time he’d killed them time had reset, and the fight had started all over again.

“holy hell, kid, get a hobby,” Sans chuckled morbidly. At least that answered one thing: the human and the time anomaly were definitely connected.

Sans hadn’t been the only one to die. Digging deeper, prying the reluctant memories from his skull, Sans began to comprehend the full extent of the masacre.

Mettaton had gone down in one hit. He’d managed to buy a little extra time to help Alphys evacuate Hotland… but it had already been too late, hadn’t it? Waterfall and Snowdin wiped out. And Undyne… oh, Undyne…

Sans rubbed at the bridge of his nose. Jeez, what a mess. If things were going to down like that again, then he couldn’t afford to wait for the other heavy-hitters to go first. Should he warn them of what might happen? Would that even achieve anything, given how they’d failed before? Well, not all of them had fought. Sans didn’t know what happened after he’d died. Maybe Asgore had defeated the human in the end—it would explain why the human had reset everything. If that were the case, then maybe Asgore could stop it again, and end the masacre before it even began. It might take some convincing, but…

Sans laughed wearily. This was all beginning to sound suspiciously like work.

“no more mr. lazybones, huh?” Well, if this was what broke his napping streak, he supposed he could live with it.

Sans took a shortcut back to his room and was greeted by the smell of burning pancakes. Papyrus was up, then. It wouldn’t be long until he’d be barging into Sans’ room to wake him up (the first time) before heading off to his morning training session with Undyne. Sans glanced at his mattress, considered going back to sleep, and immediately dismissed the idea. As much as he’d like to, he doubted his mind was going to let him have any rest in the near future—besides, it might be fun to surprise Papyrus. He didn’t do that enough.

Sans threw on his jacket and made his way downstairs. A small tower of pancakes was threatened to upend itself on the kitchen table, and Papyrus’ signature red cape was draped over one of the chairs. It must get in the way of the “cook” aesthetic, Sans suspected. He grinned; it wasn’t difficult to imagine Papyrus lecturing him on dangers of cape-and-apron entanglement. Sans drifted over to the table, running through a mental list of cape related puns. Could he tie it in with breakfast? Something to do with him being a _cape_ -able cook, heh…

Sans went to pick up the cape—puns never suffered from a bit of theatrical flair—but the joke he’d strung together crumbled away the second his fingers closed around the cloth.

Because he remembered.

 

_The red caught his eye, fluttering weakly in the breeze. Sans recognized it even from a distance—how could he not, when he saw it every day—but he couldn’t understand what is was doing half submerged in a drift of snow. Papyrus never left the thing behind. Taking a shortcut across the trail Sans landed by the mound and pulled Papyrus’ cape up out of the snow. As the pile shifted something fell to the ground with a muffled thud and rolled a few feet away. A piece of Papyrus’ battle armor. That was strange._

_Then he saw the rest of it. The chestplate, gloves, boots, belt—everything but Papyrus. Sans stood there, still, for several long minutes as the snow fell silently over the scene. His mind was blank and his eye sockets empty as he refused to process what he’d found._

_The cape slipped from Sans’ fingers._

_No. No, this wasn’t possible. The human was supposed to free everyone—Sans had it written down in his own handwriting. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be happening._

_“no,” Sans choked out, sinking into the pile of snow and dust. His soul ached so bad he thought it would shatter. “no, no, please, no, papyrus…”_

 

“SANS! YOU’RE AWAKE!”

Sans jerked backwards, unintentionally tugging Papyrus’ cape and knocking the chair it had been draped over backwards. Sans flinched as the chair clattered to the floor.

“OH!” Papyrus said. “I’M SORRY, BROTHER! I DIDN’T MEAN TO STARTLE YOU, THOUGH YOU DID APPEAR TO BE VERY DEEP IN THOUGHT. I ONLY MEANT—SANS?” Papyrus stopped. “ARE YOU CRYING?”

“oh.” Sans hastily wiped his sleeve across his face, and swallowed down a lump in his throat. “sorry, paps. guess the smell of your cooking brought me to tears, heh.” He stretched a practiced, easy smile over his face.

Even so, Papyrus looked uncertain. “ARE YOU SURE YOU’RE ALRIGHT?”

Sans let out a long, exaggerated yawn. “eh, maybe you’re right. guess that's what i get for _raisin_ so early.” Sans paused expectantly, but was met with a blank expression. “just can't seem to function without _eggs_ tra sleep.”

“NYEH!” Papyrus planted his hands on his waist. “IT IS TOO EARLY TO START THIS.”

“well then i guess i _butter_ get back to bed,” Sans said. “but i thought you don't like it when i _loaf_ around. don't tell me you're starting to _waffle_.”

Papyrus finally cracked a smile. “I AM NOT EVEN MAKING WAFFLES.”

 

The rest of the morning went more smoothly. The brothers chatted over a table full of (slightly burnt) pancakes, and Sans graciously kept his puns to a minimum. When they were done Papyrus cleared off the table and made ready to leave; Sans lingered by the door, waiting for him.

“WILL YOU BE HEADING TO YOUR SENTRY STATION NOW?” Papyrus added with a sly grin, “I HOPE THIS IS THE BEGINNING OF A NEW TREND.”

“actually,” Sans said, “i was hoping i could come with you. maybe watch you train for a bit. is that cool?”

By the way Papyrus’ face lit up in surprised delight, he needn’t have even responded.

“OF COURSE, BROTHER! YOU ARE ALWAYS WELCOME TO ATTEND PRACTICE. UNLESS,” he added, teasing, “THIS IS MERELY A PLOT TO GET OUT OF SENTRY DUTY!”

“heh, nah,” Sans said. “i’ll still be keeping an eye out for any wayward humans—” That was an understatement. “—but seeing as i’ve got some extra time to kill this morning, i thought i’d spend it with you.”

Papyrus wasn’t going to argue with that. Sans followed his brother out the door—the latter practically skipping down the road—and paused to glance back towards the forest.

Sans had a new plan. First, he was going to keep better tabs on his brother. He’d been too careless in the last timeline; too trusting of whatever had happened before. Even when the kid had come out of the ruins, covered in dust and with dead eyes, he’d hesitated to take the threat seriously. He’d let his brother get close. Not this time.

Second, he was actually going to do his sentry duty. Even with sticking close to his brother, his shortcuts would allow him to regularly check the Ruin’s door. Constantly hopping back and forth like that wouldn’t be easy, but ideally it meant he’d be the first to know when the human arrived.

And finally, when they did show up, Sans wasn’t going to hesitate. This time he was going to stop the massacre before it could begin.

_Because he was going to fucking murder them._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things just got personal.


	3. Frisk

The flower bed was empty.

Frisk turned in a slow circle, peering into every one of the cavern’s shadows for the slightest of movements—but all was still.

“Flowey?” Frisk called. They waited a moment, but there was no answer.

Frisk wandered over to the chamber’s entryway, which led into the Ruins. “Flowey?” they called again. “Flowey, please come out. I promise I won’t hurt you.” They grimaced as they said it; the assurance sounded weak even to Frisk.

They’d really messed things up, hadn’t they? They never should have reset after they’d freed the Underground. It was just that getting to know the monsters had been so much fun, and they’d wanted to live it all again. What could be the harm in that? After all, if anything went wrong they could always reset…

But then they’d woken Chara, and everything had changed. Now things were happening differently. Now they had to live with consequences.

Frisk slumped their shoulders and hung their head. “I’m sorry,” they whispered. The words caught at a lump in their throat, and Frisk scrunched up their nose against the stinging pressure that was building behind their eyes. They couldn’t cry now. They weren’t a little kid anymore—they should be trying to figure out how to fix things, not wallowing in self pity. Crying was stupid.

“Stupid,” Frisk repeated, sniffing loudly.

“Is someone—oh! Greetings, child.”

Frisk looked up through blurry eyes, but they didn’t need to see to recognize the voice that made their heart ache.

“Are you lost, little one?” Toriel said. “I know it can be scary, but fear not. I will guide you through—oh!”

Frisk launched themself at Toriel, burying their face in her dress and bunching the cloth in their hands.

“I’m sorry!” they sobbed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Ah, my child.” A large paw patted Frisk’s head. “Worry not. I am here.”

Frisk didn’t let go, as if, in relinquishing their grip, they’d open their eyes to find nothing but dust before them.

 

Almost everything was the same. The same hallways, the same puzzles, the same monsters. But every time a Froggit hopped over to greet them, or a Whimsun fluttered shyly by, Frisk saw their death by their own hand, and had to squeeze their eyes shut to make the images go away. When they opened their eyes everything was back to normal again—or, almost everything.

Flowey was still avoiding them.

Frisk caught sight of him twice as they were navigating the ruins, a blur of yellow out of the corner of their eye when they turned to look back the way they came.

“Flowey—wait—!”

But the flower was too wary, and too quick. They spent the better part of a day wandering around the Ruins, attempting to chase after Flowey—or predict where he might pop up next. Despite a few close encounters, however, Frisk only succeeding in tiring themself out. As hunger began to claw at their gut, Frisk wearily and reluctantly made their way to Toriel’s house, thoroughly disheartened. It must have showed, too, for Toriel took one look at them and whisked them inside.

“Ah, my child, you must be famished!” Toriel said. “I apologize for taking so long to retrieve you. It has been, ah, _quite_ some time since I’ve had company. As such I fear my cooking skills have grown a bit rusty, but hopefully it shall suffice to fill you up.”

The sticky-sweet smell that permeated the house was so rich and thick that Frisk’s mouth watered the second they stepped in the door, and the growling of their stomach redoubled. Toriel chuckled softly at the noise, and Frisk managed a guilty smile, but they couldn’t hold it for long.

“Thanks, Toriel,” Frisk said. “It smells amazing.” Their throat clenched, recalling what they’d done the last time they’d stepped foot in this house.

They didn’t deserve her love.

“Child.” Toriel stopped before the kitchen. “You seem sad. Is something the matter?”

Frisk buried the memory, then wandered over to dinner table and climbed into a seat.

“No,” they said. “Well. Maybe.”

“Mhmm,” Toriel fixed them with a thoughtful look. “I don’t suppose it is something a piece of butterscotch pie can fix?”

Frisk smiled weakly. “I don’t think so.” They hesitated. “It’s… a friend. I hurt them, and they ran away. I want to say sorry, but they won’t let me. How do I make them listen?”

“Ah, well.” Toriel disappeared into the kitchen, from which there soon came the sounds of clattering plates and scraping utensils. “I am sorry to say the short answer is, you cannot.”

She returned with two slices of pie, and placed one before Frisk. The buttery smell wafted off the pie in hot waves, and it took every ounce of Frisk’s determination to not devour the thing in one bite. Instead they frowned, looking up at Toriel.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Toriel said, taking a seat across from them, “you simply cannot force someone to listen. They must _want_ to listen.” Toriel raised an eyebrow at Frisk. “If they do not wish to speak then you must ask yourself: is the apology to make them feel better, or you?”

Frisk picked up the fork and poked at the slice of pie halfheartedly. “I dunno. Them, I think.” They scooped up a forkful of the filling. “Or maybe me. I feel bad.”

“That is only natural, child,” Toriel said. “You cannot control if others forgive you. The only thing you _can_ control is if you forgive yourself.”

Frisk scrunched up their nose. “I don’t think I should.”

Toriel took a bite of her pie, and gestured Frisk to do the same. “Hmm. That bad, is it? Do you regret what you did?”

“Yes,” Frisk said. Following Toriel’s prompting, they took a bite as well. Warmth flooded through them and their eyes lit up. It had been so long since they’d had Toriel’s cooking they’d almost forgotten what it tasted like. “It’s good!”

“Thank you, dear. And do you believe you have learned from your actions?”

Frisk hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll never ever do anything like that again.” They took another bite, unable to help themself now that they’d gotten a taste.

“Well, it sounds to me like you are ready to move on,” Toriel said. “But everyone takes their own time to move on—and some never do.” The barest hint of a frown wrinkled Toriel’s brow, and for a moment her gaze seemed distant. She ironed the look out the next moment, however, and gave Frisk an understanding smile. “The best thing you can do for yourself is to let go of your past mistakes, and the best thing you can do for your friend is to give them some time and space. Do you understand?”

Frisk chewed on another piece of the pie as they thought about Toriel’s advice. “Mm. I guess kinda. I think you might be right about giving them some space. Okay.” Frisk sat up straight, and pressed both of their hands flat against the table. “I need another piece of pie. Please?” they belatedly added.

Toriel chuckled at Frisk’s sudden and serious posture. “Child, you have not even finished your first piece.”

“It’s not for me,” Frisk said.

“Ah,” Toriel set down her fork. “I believe that can be arranged.”

Perhaps it was something a piece of butterscotch pie could fix afterall.

 

The next morning Frisk went out into the garden to check the plate they had left there overnight; it was empty.

Frisk smiled. Even if it wasn’t much, it was a start. They’d leave another piece out tonight (though Frisk wasn’t sure if Toriel would agree to bake pies for such purposes indefinitely.) But that was okay. Frisk was starting to make things right, and even if it wasn’t much progress it made them feel a little better. They could do this. They were going to fix things.

Plate in hand, Frisk was turning to leave when they heard a rustling sound behind them.

“So what the hell was all this about?”

Frisk stiffened, then started to turn around. “Flowey?”

“Oooooh no you don’t! You stay _right there_ unless you want to taste a faceful of my bullets.”

Frisk stopped.

“Good,” Flowey said. “Now are you going to answer my question or what?”

Frisk was quiet for a moment, struggling to find the right words to express everything they wanted to say—and failed to think of anything. They hung their head. “I’m sorry.”

“Wow,” Flowey drew out the word. “Great. That’s fantastic to hear.” Frisk could hear him rolling his eyes. “So what was this supposed to be, some sort of ‘sorry-I-killed-you’ present?”

Frisk hugged the plate to their chest, and felt an ashamed blush spread across their cheeks and neck. “I dunno. I just thought you should have some.”

Flowey scoffed. “Amazing. A+ plan, right there. And what did you think would happen? That I’d accept your apology? That a _piece of pie_ would make everything better?”

“No. I don’t know,” Frisk repeated, a little frustrated. They _had_ had a plan, but now that they were talking to Flowey they couldn’t say anything right. “I just thought… I just thought it would be a good thing to do. I know it doesn’t fix everything. But… well, you ate it, so…”

Flowey laughed. “Golly, you’re _right_ ! I ate the pie. Not because I _like_ pie, but because _I forgive you for killing me_ . That’s _gotta_ be it!”

The sarcasm was starting to get under Frisk’s skin. “You killed me first,” Frisk said, annoyed.

That just sent Flowey into a fit of giggles. “I did, didn’t I?”

“A lot,” Frisk added. That all seemed so long ago.

“A lot,” Flowey agreed. “And then—boy, didn’t I _free_ the Underground? What an interesting change of pace that was! Of course,” the fake mirth dropped away from Flowey’s voice. “That all got reset. Didn’t it?”

Frisk’s irritation evaporated. “I’m sorry. That was a mistake. Everything I’ve done since then was a mistake. And, you don’t have to forgive me,” Frisk added, remembering Toriel’s words. “But I just wanted you to know that _I know_ I messed up, and it won’t happen again.”

“Gee, that’s a nice sentiment and everything, but it’s a little late for regrets,” Flowey said. “But don’t worry, I got the message. The next time you decide to go on another dusting spree I’ll keep well out of your way. As exciting as it is to be betrayed and chopped into teeny tiny bits, one time’s enough for me.”

“Flowey, that wasn’t—”

“WELL good talk,” Flowey said. “Be seeing ya. I mean, _you_ won’t be seeing _me,_ but you get the—”

“Chara’s gone!” Frisk blurted out.

Silence.

“...They’ve been gone ever since they let me reset,” Frisk continued when Flowey didn’t speak up. “I wouldn’t let them take my soul, so they left me. I—I think they may be somewhere else in the Underground, trying to take someone else’s soul. I have to stop them.” Slowly, Frisk turned to look over their shoulder. “...Flowey?”

The flower was staring at them—no, staring through them, at their soul—with a grave expression. Their mouth pulled into a tight, straight line, and their eyes narrowed.

“You’re serious?”

Frisk held their hands before their chest, and willed their soul to appear. It took a moment for it to emerge—it was easier to do in encounters, though Frisk was beginning to figure it out—but when it did appear it was red, pure, and theirs. Frisk waited as Flowey checked their soul.

“Huh,” he finally said, leaning back. “You’re telling the truth.”

“I am,” Frisk said. “They’re gone.”

“Well, that’s just peachy,” Flowey sighed, finally looking up at Frisk’s face. He was still frowning. “You know you’re the only human in the Underground, right?”

“Yes?” Frisk said, confused. “So?”

“So that means if you’re right, Chara’s gunna end up in a monster,” Flowey said.

Frisk didn’t understand where Flowey was going with this. “I already said so.”

“But you obviously don’t understand what that _means,_ ” Flowey said. “Determination is bad for us. Like, _really_ bad.”

“Oh. Alphys’ lab,” Frisk recalled. They remembered the melting monsters, and the horrible experiments that had been done with human Determination.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t even _begin_ to cover it,” Flowey said. “Alphys was just messing around with some diluted soul juice. The souls she took it from didn’t even have Determination as their dominant trait. But fusing a Determined human soul to a monster soul is completely different.” Flowey shivered. “You aren’t even in control of _you_ any more.”

Frisk nodded, and said quietly, “I understand.”

Flowey suddenly looked angry, as if he were about to argue, but just a quickly he stopped himself and tipped his head to the side. He gave Frisk a curious look. “Heehee. Maybe you do.”

The two stood there, lost in their own thoughts for a few quiet minutes. Flowey was the one to eventually break the silence.

“Well, guess you’ll be asking for my help, won’t you?”

“Um, sure. I mean yes,” Frisk said. “If you want to help me?”

“Not particularly.” Flowey shrugged a leaf. “But I guess I’ll have to. It’s bad enough just dealing with _you_ . I don’t want the Underground to get any more complicated than it already is, and the creation of another me is the _last_ thing I need.”

In spite of the grave matter at hand, Frisk smiled. “One of you is more than enough,” they agreed.

Flowey replicated the smile, but with two rows of sharp, pointed teeth. “Don’t push your luck.”

Frisk didn’t, and they began to plan.


	4. Sans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a few weeks! Hopefully I'll keep a more rigid schedule the rest of the month. Hope you enjoy.

Sans hadn’t slept in two days. 

He hadn’t intended to stay up so long, but last time the human had emerged from the Ruins the same day they’d reset, and Sans wasn’t taking any chances. They were overdue to show up, which meant it could happen any minute. 

Any minute.

“SANS?”

Sans jerked upright, knocking his head against the tree trunk and dislodging a drift of snow from the branches. The flurry scattered a fine layer of snow over him and his brother. Sans grimaced and rubbed the back of his skull. 

“oh, hey. sup, bro?”

Papyrus looked down at his brother, wringing his hands. “YOU FELL ASLEEP. ARE YOU SURE YOU WOULD NOT LIKE TO RETURN HOME TO REST?”

It wasn’t the first time that day Papyrus had asked—and if Paps noticed, then Sans’ exhaustion was surely showing. 

“nah, i’m good,” Sans said, forcibly stifling a yawn. “said i’d stay to the end of practice.” He glanced around the clearing. “where’s undyne, anyway?”

“SHE ALREADY LEFT,” Papyrus said. “WE FINISHED A HALF HOUR AGO.”

“a half hour?!” Sans stiffened. “how long was i out?” Better question: how far could a human travel in that time?

Papyrus frowned with worry. “I KNEW I SHOULD HAVE LET YOU REST LONGER! USUALLY I WOULD NOT OBJECT TO SUCH PRODUCTIVITY, BUT—AND I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M SAYING THIS—YOU CLEARLY NEED THE REST!”

Papyrus was right and Sans knew it. His current approach to looking out for the human wasn’t sustainable, and if the kid took much longer to show themself then Sans was going to have to sleep, whether he liked it or not. 

“well, if practice is over, i guess heading home isn’t a bad idea,” Sans said. Papyrus sagged with relief. “lemme just swing by the sentry station to close up shop before i turn in for the night. okay?”

Papyrus didn’t look entirely pleased with the compromise, but didn’t object. “I WILL START SOME DINNER, THEN. IT SHOULD BE DONE BY THE TIME YOU GET HOME!”

“sounds great,” Sans said. He gave his brother a wink. “ _ pasta _ la vista.” 

“SAN—!”

His brother’s moan was cut short as Sans took a shortcut through the forest, appearing by his sentry station with a chuckle. It wasn’t hard to imagine the light-hearted rant his brother had been about to launch into. The smile slowly drained away as Sans swept his gaze over the forest and focussed on what he was here to do. 

Tracking the kid wasn’t as easy as looking for new prints in the snow. He and his brother roamed the area frequently enough that the main trails were packed pretty flat, and even on the remote trails, close to the Ruins, it could be easy to miss something due to Sans’ own footprints that littered the ground. Even so, he had to check. If everything was clear, then he’d take the night off. Even humans had to sleep, right?

Sans trudged through Snowdin Forest, opting not to take shortcuts while he scanned for anything out of place. Everything was quiet, but given the time of day that was no surprise. Most folks were home with their families—where Sans should be, if he hadn’t fallen asleep on the job. Heh, typical.

“Hey. Hey, trash bag.”

Sans stopped. The voice was coming from behind him, though he hadn’t heard anyone approaching. Fearing the worst, Sans’ magic leapt to the ready as he carefully turned around. 

“Wow, you look like crap,” a small yellow flower said.

Sans blinked. “excuse me?”

“I mean, even for you,” the flower said. “And that’s saying something. ‘Trash bag’ wasn’t meant to be a literal description.”

Sans magic fizzled out. What the hell? “are you calling me a trash bag?” 

“Heehee, yeah,” the flower giggled. “Old habits, I guess. But look, that’s not why I’m here. I’m  _ here _ ,” the flower grimaced and paused for a long moment, as if forcing out the words were physically painful. “...for your help. Ugh,  _ there _ , I said it. That kid owes me one.”

Sans sighed internally. He didn’t have time for this. “not that i don’t want to help,” Sans said, “but i’m on a bit of a schedule. do i even know you?”

The flower laughed. “Oh! Of course. We know each other  _ very  _ well. Not that you remember—” Sans frowned. That hit a little too close to home. Did he know something about the time anomaly? “—but you can call me Flowey.”

Now that  _ did  _ ring a bell. 

“you know my brother,” Sans said, recalling a few conversations he’d had with Papyrus. Sans had never really paid much heed to Papyrus’ stories of finding a talking flower in Waterfall. “i thought he was just talking to an echo flower,” Sans admitted. 

Flowey giggled. “A common assumption, and excellent cover. So anyway—” 

“why’ve you been talkin’ to my bro?” Sans interrupted, eyes narrowing. 

“ _ Ugh, _ ” Flowey rolled his eyes. “Really? Is  _ that  _ where this conversation is going to go?”

“it isn’t often you see a new face around here,” Sans said, his suspicion rising once more. “and it sounds like you’ve been talking to my bro behind my back. trying to keep a low profile. so tell me,  _ bud _ , why i should trust anything you say?”

“You are making this  _ so  _ much harder than it needs to be,” Flowey whined. “Gosh, this is just typical. Not everything is about  _ you and your brother _ , you know. Shockingly, we’ve got way bigger problems.”

“don’t change the subject,” Sans started. 

“But hey,” Flowey shrugged, ignoring Sans’ interjection, “you wanna deal with some kind of rampaging human-monster hybrid on your own, be my guest.”

Sans’ soul went cold. 

“ _ what? _ ”

“Heehee! I thought that would get your attention,” Flowey said. “Oh, but you wanted to talk about Papyrus, right?”

Sans didn’t raise to the bait. “there’s a human on the loose?” 

He didn’t know how to feel. This confirmed his memories of the other timeline were real—and he supposed he should be relieved—but part of him had prefered the idea that he’d been obsessing over a bad dream. 

“Well, I mean, yeah, I guess there’s a human down here,” Flowey said. “But that wasn’t exactly what I was talking about. Look, there’s a  _ looooot  _ to explain and I just don’t have the patience for any of that. I’m just supposed to find you—which I did. Go, me. Now it’s your job to follow me back and talk to the kid. They’ll fill you in. All this was  _ their  _ idea anyway.” Flowey stuck out his tongue. “For the record, I didn’t want you to help.”

“noted,” Sans said. 

“Because I don't like you,” Flowey clarified.

“i'm shocked.”

The flower smiled in a way that wasn’t much of a smile. “Good talk,” Flowey said, and vanished into the ground. Behind Sans came a soft crunching of snow, and he turned around in time to see the Flower pop up once more in the middle of the trail. “So you coming or what?”

Sans hesitated for only a moment. Papyrus was expecting him home… but if there was even the slightest chance of learning what was happening—or how to find the human—then he had to follow. 

“coming,” Sans confirmed. He smiled weakly. “don’t  _ leaf  _ me behind.” 

“Ughhhhhhhhhhhhh.” The flower burrowed into the ground, reappearing further down the trail. “I knew this was a terrible idea.”

Sans began to follow. “what, not a fan of the finer medium? i’m sure it’ll  _ grow  _ on ya.” 

Flowey sighed.

“i con- _ seed _ this isn’t my best work,” Sans continued. “i haven’t had much  _ stamen _ a lately.”

“It’s not even that they’re bad,” Flowey grumbled. “Though they  _ are  _ bad. It just gets so repetitive.”

“oh yeah? heard that one before?” Sans watched the flower closely. “or is it we’ve already had this conversation?”

“Hee.” Flowey glanced back at Sans. “You always do catch on quick. Maybe that’s why the kid thought you could help. But to answer your question, this is the first time this’s happened.” 

So he wasn’t the only one that remembered. “and how many times have things repeated?”

“Eh. That’s not an easy question to answer,” Flowey said. “I mean first you gotta specify if we’re talking about loads or resets, and then you hafta narrow it down between the human resets and when I could—whoops.”

“ _ you’re _ responsible for the time anomalies?” Sans cut in.

Flowey rolled his eyes. “Don’t bother looking so scandalized—I can’t do it anymore, anyway. Not since the kid showed up.”

“how exactly does that work?” Sans asked. And what did all this have to do with ‘the kid’ Flowey kept referencing?

“What am I, your personal encyclopedia?” Flowey said. “I don’t know how all this works. You got questions, ask the kid.”

Sans followed in reluctant silence for the next few minutes. As much as he had questions it was apparent Flowey had no interest in answering, so he contented himself with his own thoughts.

He couldn’t recall having met Flowey before—in this timeline or the last—but it was apparent the flower knew him. And worse, he knew his brother. As much as Sans could use some help, it was clear Flowey had a shady past and suspect intentions. Sure, “the enemy of my enemy is my friend,” but Sans wouldn’t be going into this agreement with his eyes closed. Since the flower had kept a low profile in the past, he must only be showing himself now to get something that he wanted. And what would he do once he obtained it? 

Sans sighed. As if he didn’t already have enough things to keep track of. 

“Welp, here we are,” Flowey said, stopping at the Ruins’ door. Sans quickly took stock of the area, and breathed a quiet sigh of relief to see a fresh dusting of snow laying unperturbed at the foot of the door. At least he probably hadn’t missed the human. They were still inside.

“so where’s your friend?” Sans asked. This was an odd location to choose as a meeting place. Perhaps they were planning on setting up an ambush for the human at the door—even so, it seemed risky to linger there. 

“‘Friend’ is such a strong word,” Flowey said. “They’re more like an acquaintance. Or a pet. Or—what’re those worm things that latch onto you and suck out your blood?”

“uh.” Sans blinked. “a leach?”

“Yeah, a leach, exactly!” Flowey beamed. “They just won’t let things go. Anyway, I’ll go get them. You stay out here.”

“out here?” Sans repeated, but Flowey had already vanished into the ground. 

Sans turned to look at the door. Had the flower gone into the Ruins? That didn’t make any sense. The only friend he could think of in there was his nameless pun-buddy, but she didn’t strike Sans as the type to associate with the likes of Flowey—or venture outside. Then again, he didn’t know much about her apart from her taste in jokes. Would he finally get to meet her face to face? 

Sans let out a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Nah, he was just getting his hopes up—probably his sleep deprivation making him giddy. He couldn’t imagine anyone would think of her as a leach, and besides, Flowey had referred to his friend—ally?—as a kid. Sans’ nameless friend struck him as more of the motherly type. So if it wasn’t her, who was Flowey retrieving?

A low groan shuddered through the Ruins’ door as the stone slab began to swing open. Sans took a step back, giving the door plenty of room to swing out, but it stopped after only a few feet and left the threshold obscured by a gaping darkness. 

Flowey reemerged from a nearby snowdrift. “Frisk, Sans, Sans, Frisk.” He waved a leaf in mock introductions. “You two have fun. This won’t take long, will it?”

The human child stepped out of the Ruins. “I already know Sans,” they said, darting a look in his direction. They immediately dropped their gaze. “Um. But you probably don’t remember me.”

Oh, Sans remembered. 

He remembered more than enough. He remembered the dust and the anguish they’d wrought. He remembered dying by their blade, and helplessly watching Alphys’ video of Undyne coming apart in her attempt to delay the inevitable.

And he remembered finding his brother’s remains. 

Sans looked at the human, and he laughed. He couldn’t help it—the situation was absurd. Here he’d been thinking he was going to meet some monsters that would help him take down the human, but instead he was brought to the human themself. The human  _ was  _ the kid. Flowey had practically said as much, but Sans had been too tired—or too naive—to put it together until now. 

Frisk looked up as Sans chuckled, a nervous smile creeping onto their face. They fidgeted with their sleeve. “There’s a lot I have to tell you,” Frisk said. “And—and the first thing I have to say is sorry! I know you don’t know what I’m talking about but I’m so,  _ so  _ sorry. I didn’t ever… I wasn’t…” Frisk sniffed, and rubbed a sleeve at their nose. “I promise I’ll tell you everything, I just don’t know where to start. And you’ll probably hate me for the things I did. But promise you’ll listen to everything I say, first?” 

They looked at him expectantly, their teary eyes filled with desperation and regret. He wasn’t looking into the dead gaze of the killer he’d met in the last timeline. Sans actually believed they meant it when they apologized. Something about this kid was different.

But things had been different in the last timeline, too. Sans had know it, but he’d still hesitated. He’d given the human the benefit of the doubt, because he’d wanted to believe that their actions in a previous reality meant they could be trusted in the present one.

Sans wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. 

“i’m not good at making promises,” Sans said. Frisk slumped a little in disappointment, and Sans gave them a wink. “but i am good a jokes. want to hear a new one?”

“Oh,” Frisk’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Um, okay. Sure.”

“great.” Sans stuffed his hands in his pockets. “so tell me. what’s black, white, and red all over?”

Frisk pursed their mouth in thought. After a moment of silence, their face suddenly lit up in recognition. “A newspaper!”

“heh, good guess…”

Frisk gasped as the color was sucked from their surroundings and their soul was pulled from their chest. In the twilight of the encounter, only Frisk’s soul gave off any light. 

“Sans?” they said, voice wavering.

Blue magic ignited in Sans’ eye, and an array of bones appeared overhead. “...but the right answer is  _ you _ .” 

“Well, crap,” Flowey said. 

The first wave landed a direct hit. Too shocked to dodge, a bone speared through the kid’s abdomen, and two more stabbed an arm and leg. Frisk cried out as they stumbled back, and the rest of his wave only grazed them. Sans dispelled the first wave of bones and summoned a second. The kid fell to their knees, drenched in their own blood. 

“Sans, wait,” they cried, then broke into a fit of wet coughs before they could continue. Sans made a point of not waiting. 

The second wave hit, and this time Frisk scrambled to get out the way. They screamed when a bone stabbed through their foot, pinning them in place, which allowed several other bones to hit their mark as well. Frisk fell on their side and managed to deflect the last bone with a stick, but the damage was already done.

It wasn’t much of a fight. Sans was almost disappointed; part of him had wanted to savor his revenge. This? This didn’t feel like enough to pay them back for Papyrus’ death. It should have been long and excruciating. They should have felt the anguish he felt when his whole world had come crashing down around him. But the kid had too little EXP this time. They’d only been able to sustain a few hits. It was over too soon. 

Sans raised a final bone attack as the kid lay on the ground, unmoving, and wondered if he was supposed to feel pity. He supposed he should. They were just a kid, after all. And based on their LV, they hadn’t murdered anyone this time around. Maybe he should have heard them out. Maybe he should have shown some mercy. 

_ They didn’t show Papyrus any mercy. _

Sans let his magic loose and the fight was over. The colorless veil of the encounter lifted, revealing the vivid shade of human blood that was sprayed over the surrounding snow and Ruin doors. Wow. That sure was a lot of blood. 

But it was a different shade of red that caught Sans’ eye. The human soul was still floating over their body, lingering as the last few licks of life left them. In a few more seconds it would shatter, leaving their body behind. Human deaths were so alien to Sans. So messy, and unceremonious. They wouldn’t turn to dust when all was said and done. What was he supposed to do with the remains?

_ There won’t be any. _

Ah, he’d almost forgotten. The second the human’s soul shattered the world would reload and it would be like they’d never died at all. Damn. Would this be Sans’ eternity? Guarding the door long enough to kill the kid—over and over and over again? 

Sans watched the soul, its steady rotation inexorably slowing towards its end, and suddenly felt very weary. He didn’t know if he could do this forever.

_ Then don’t. _

Of course, there was a way to break the cycle. There was a way to kill the kid  _ and  _ keep their soul from shattering. Every monster knew how—in theory. 

_ Take it. _

If a monster absorbed a human soul, they would become something else. Something more. 

_ Absorb it. _

And if they absorbed seven souls, they’d become something  _ other _ . That was the king’s plan, Sans knew, so he could become powerful enough to break the barrier. This soul would make the set complete, if he could get it to the king before it shattered. 

_ No time. _

He didn’t have time for that. But… but maybe next time he could plan ahead. Maybe…

_ Take it! _

Sans reached for the soul. It was such a fragile thing; it looked like it would shatter the moment he touched it. And he… he didn’t  _ want  _ to touch it. The idea of becoming part human was repulsive. He  _ hated  _ them. They’d killed Papyrus. What...

_ Absorb it! Hurry! _

Sans cupped his hands below the human soul. The magic radiated against his bones. Stars, it was so powerful. Even as it died its Determination was overwhelming. Every ounce of his essence was warning him against getting any closer, rallying against the presence of the potent, poisonous magic. Determination didn’t mix well with monsters. 

What was he doing? Something was wrong. 

_ DO IT! _

“Oh,  _ Hell  _ no!”

Sans folded his hands around the soul as a blur of green shot by his peripheral. For a moment he felt the roar of the soul against him—then his hands were smacked apart, a thorned vine between them, and the soul shattered into a dozen pieces. 

The world rewound.


	5. Save Point 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boy, I sure hope your computer/phone doesn't strip out italics or this fic would be really confusing.

Frisk could feel the darkness reaching for their soul. It yearned for them, desperate and hungry. Frisk struggled to free themself from the void but it was too soon—the world was still loading—so the darkness pressed closer, and they could only endure. 

The void folded around them and something brushed against Frisk’s soul. They gasped, instantly and acutely aware of another presence connected to their own. The other’s frustration was overwhelming, but floundered without direction and swirled about Frisk in a violent maelstrom of conflicting thoughts. Frisk huddled in on themself, willing the storm to pass. It was then, however, that the other seemed to realize what they held in their grasp, and their attention washed over Frisk. 

_ The human…? _

Something pulled at their soul. A soft tug at first, then another one, more insistent, and Frisk was slowly drawn back, with the reluctance of a boot pulled from mud, as the darkness refused to relinquish its hold on their soul. But the pull of Determination already set into motion was great, and finally the grasp around their soul snapped free and Frisk was plunged back into the Underground.

Frisk gasped in air as desperately as if they’d been drowning, and dug their fingers into the earth to ground themself. They were in the Ruins—on a pile of leaves outside Toriel’s house—at the last place they’d saved. 

Everything had happened so fast, it took them a moment to understand how they had ended up back there.

“Sans… killed me?”

“I mean, it’s not like that was the first time.”

Frisk craned their head back to see Flowey protruding from the pile of leaves. Pushing themself around to face the flower, Frisk clutched their stomach, the spot where they had been stabbed not moments before. 

“Well, that went about as horribly as it could have gone!” Flowey said cheerfully. 

Frisk slowly tucked their knees up to their chest. “I thought he would listen.”

“Typically, I’m sure he would have,” Flowey said. 

“Typically?”

“Well it’s pretty obvious that reaction wasn’t typical,” Flowey pointed out. “He’s always had some sensitivity to timelines, but this was something completely different. Now what could  _ possibly  _ make him want to kill you?” 

Frisk’s heart sunk. “He remembered?” they guessed.

“Bingo!” Flowey beamed. He seemed to be enjoying this.

Frisk sighed. “That’s bad. How’re we going to get him to listen to me now?”

“Oh,” Flowey snickered, “That isn’t even the  _ half  _ of it. Didn’t you know? He tried to absorb your soul, too.”

Frisk stared at them. “ _ What _ ?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Flowey smiled, “I shattered it first!  _ You’re welcome _ , by the way.”

“My… my soul?” Frisk’s eyes widened, placing their hand over their chest. “Why would he do that?”

Flowey just stared at them, and raised an incredulous, amused eyebrow.

“...Chara,” Frisk realized. 

“Wow, right again! Took you long enough.” Flowey giggled and shook his head. “Man, of  _ all  _ the monsters they could have picked. We’re pretty screwed.” 

“Chara’s in Sans,” Frisk said, trying to wrap their head around it. That was bad. That was  _ very  _ bad. If it came to a fight, without any LV or EXP Frisk didn’t stand a chance. And if Sans could remember what they’d done, then there was no way he’d be willing to listen to Frisk. Would Sans be able to fight Chara off on their own? He wouldn’t even know what was happening. 

Frisk’s stomach twisted unpleasantly, and they looked to Flowey. “What are we supposed to do?”

“Do?” Flowey repeated, and began to laugh. “ _ Do? _ ”

Frisk hugged their legs close and buried their face in their knees. They’d thought they’d had a plan, but now it felt like everything was coming undone. They’d had friends, but turned them into enemies. They’d had a happy ending, but had chosen to take it away.

How were they supposed to fix everything now?

What were they supposed to do?

Frisk remained silent as crazed, hysterical laughter filled the Ruins. 

 

<3

 

“what the  _ fuck?! _ ”

Sans stumbled backwards, snatching his hands away from the empty air before him. Their soul. He’d tried to take  _ their soul _ . 

“holy shit, what the fuck, what the—”

“SANS! LANGUAGE!” 

Sans whirled around to find Papyrus standing in the road. They were somewhere just outside of Waterfall—the kid had loaded to an earlier point in the timeline. What time was it? Hell, what  _ day  _ was it? 

Papyrus, who had struck a disapproving pose, hesitated when he saw his brother’s look. “SANS? ARE YOU ALRIGHT?” 

“f—fine! i’m fine bro.” What was going on? Why had he done that? Something was seriously messed up—

“BROTHER, YOU ARE OBVIOUSLY NOT FINE!” Papyrus objected. He took a step towards Sans, and Sans took a step back. “SANS? WHAT’S WRONG? YOU ARE BEHAVING VERY STRANGELY.” 

“uh, just need some time to myself,” Sans said, taking another step back. “gotta figure something out. ‘s alright, paps, i’ll be fine.”

“SANS,” Papyrus started. “DON’T EVEN THINK ABO—” 

Sans took a shortcut to his lab and collapsed against his work desk, where he began to tremble uncontrollably. He looked down at his hands and clasped one inside the other to try to stop the shaking. 

The heat of the human’s soul still lingered in his grasp. Sans closed his eyes and shivered, forcing down a wave of nausea. Why had he done that?

It was all a fog. He remembered everything he’d done, but he couldn’t understand why, or what he’d been thinking. It was like he’d been inebriated—though he wasn’t feeling the effects now. So what was it? Sleep deprivation? Some timeline fuckery? Something else?

“calm down,” Sans told himself. He squeezed his hand until it hurt and the shaking stopped. He tried to take in and let out a measured breath. “calm down.” 

Sans lost track of time as he stood there, his entire focus narrowed to controlling his breathing and working the tension out of his bones. Eventually he’d relaxed enough—or at least, was no longer panicking—that he felt he was ready to work through the problem. Sans sighed heavily.

Okay. He’d figure this out. Just keep his emotions under lock and key and evaluate all the variables. Easy, right?

Sans released his hands, flexing their sore joints, and gave an uneasy chuckle. He could totally approach this rationally. Sure, he hadn’t really had to think like a scientist in years, but it was like riding a bike, right?

Not that he’d ever learned how to ride a bike.

… And now he was just avoiding the problem. He’d always been good at dodging around things. (Sans could remember someone saying something to that effect a long time ago. Who had that been?) Sans rubbed at a headache beginning to form in his skull, and forced himself to refocus.

What had led up to his uncharacteristic behavior? Everything had seemed fine before that. He’d spoken with Flowey, saw the kid, initiated an encounter, defeated them with his bone constructs… Had that been the catalyst? Something to do with his magic?

Sans held out a hand and experimentally summoned a bone. The construct hovered in the air before him, light blue and faintly transparent. Nothing about it seemed out of place. Except…

Sans frowned, moving the bone closer. It wasn’t obvious, but the edge of the construct was hazzy and ill defined. Instead of appearing solid, like its physical counterpart, the bone’s magic became staticky at its boundary. Sans gripped it—it felt firm enough—and gave an experimental swing. Didn’t seem any different. Sans turned the bone around in his hand, then banished the construct. 

So. Something was up with his magic. But how far did it go? 

Sans stepped over by the door, clearing as much space as his small workshop could spare, and summoned a blaster. The giant skull took shape and immediately filled the space, knocking gently against the floor and ceiling as it hovered in place. Sans patted the skull on its nose.

“feelin’ a bit foggy?” Sans asked, running his hand over its jaw. Like his bone construct, a fuzz of magic lingered above the skull’s surface. Sans hummed to himself. “doesn’t seem to be botherin’ ya.” He edged his away around the shop, checking the blaster up and down, but couldn’t find anything else out of place. Sans drummed his fingers against his chin. Was its charge capacity affected at all? 

Sans tapped into his magic reserved and funneled them into the blaster. A light flickered to life in the skull’s maw, and quickly brightened as the energy began to pool. He generally didn’t pump too much juice into a single blaster (it was a rare event that even called for one’s use,) but as this was an experiment he decided to fill it to capacity. The lab’s shadows stretched back as the blaster’s glow rose to blinding levels. 

Sans began to feel… uneasy. No, that wasn’t quite right. Unsettled? He rubbed at his chest, warily eying the blaster. Maybe he should stop. Was it wise to push his limits when he knew something was wrong? The unease settled in his gut and turned sour. 

The room swayed, and Sans caught the lip of the table for support. He immediately cut off the magic he was funneling into the blaster, but his lightheadedness only grew worse. Sans didn’t think he’d overdone it, but apparently he’d drained too much too fast—and worse still he now had a powered-up blaster to deal with. 

The blaster’s magic had to be expelled or reabsorbed; the first wasn’t an option if he wanted to leave his lab intact. Reabsorption was the only choice, and hopefully one that would alleviate his sudden magic fatigue. Sans banished the blaster as he pulled the magic back into his stores—and immediately doubled over as nausea crashed through him.

“aw, fuck,” Sans gasped, bracing himself as the turbulent magic roiled through his soul. Fighting off a wave of vertigo, he gripped the workbench and hung his head, willing himself to not get sick. Stars, this was a special kind of stupid. He’d known it was a bad idea, he’d  _ known— _

Sans tensed as his magic heaved. Could he hold it back? He could hold it back. His body just needed a minute to reabsorb— 

—Oh, crap— 

Sans made it two steps towards the door before he bent over and puked. Giving up on any attempt to make it outside or hold back the magic, Sans rested his hands on his knees and heaved, bringing up another bout of vomit. His eyes teared up in response, and Sans reluctantly resigned himself to following through with his body’s apparent decision to abruptly and violently detox his soul. 

He stood there for the next several minutes, gagging and spitting until there was nothing left to throw up. The exertion left him feeling hollow, and it took him a few tries to catch his breath. Man, it had been years since he’d last been sick, and he hadn’t missed it one bit. 

Once he was sure he was done, Sans straightened up and shakily removed his jacket, using it to wipe first his eyes and then his mouth. He grimaced at the new stains that dotted the article (they certainly weren’t the first,) then set it aside on his work desk. It was probably overdue for a wash anyway. 

Sans turned back to the mess, wondering if he was going to have to cleaned it up or if it would eventually dissipate on its own, when he pulled up short. He squinted, tipped his head, and took an uneasy step forward. 

“...the hell?”

Sans’ magic was light blue—the color of Patience—and on very rare occasions the yellow of Justice. The rejected magic reflected these colors, and the puddle on the floor was overwhelmingly cyan. But it wasn’t only cyan; speckled throughout the magic was an unmistakable and vivid shade of red. 

Red should  _ not  _ be in his magic. 

Sans instinctively put a hand over his soul. Monsters weren’t compatible with red magic—not typically, anyway. To say it wasn’t good for them was an understatement. Sans remembered some of the experiments he’d help run back in the Core, before he’d quit working at the lab. The Determination experiments had always made him uncomfortable. He hadn’t wanted to work on them but… someone… there had been someone… he’d felt obligated to keep working… 

Sans turned away from the vomit and pressed his knuckles into his temples, trying to massage out the headache before it could grow any worse. He was forgetting something. There was a void in his past, something missing he’d never been entirely aware of until this moment. 

_ Why? _ Why could he remember this gap in his memories? Why was he aware of the last timeline? Why had he tried to take the kid’s soul, and why the  _ fuck  _ was there Determination in his magic? 

What was  _ wrong  _ with him?

Sans was beginning to feel sick all over again. 

“don’t panic, don’t panic,” he said, feeling the signs of another attack coming on. He could still figure this out. He  _ had  _ to figure this out. He just needed to  _ calm down _ and stay rational. 

Right. Right. Okay. The first step to figuring out what was going on with his magic was to examine his soul. Generally summoning one’s soul was done in a calm and clear state of mind—neither of which Sans particularly related to at the moment—but he could probably force it. Not the best idea, but under the circumstances there didn’t seem to be any better options. Sans cupped his hands before his chest, and willed his soul to appear.

It left his chest with extreme reluctance, forming slowly and only with continued insistence, but it did appear. 

Like all monster souls, it appeared to be an upside-down, glowing, white heart.

Unlike all monster souls, a gash of deep, blood red bisected his soul. 

Sans’s breath hitched and a chilling numbness washed over him. The red magic only composed a narrow sliver of his soul, but a dozen tiny veins were already creeping into the surrounding magic, slowly leaching his energy away. 

Sans didn’t know what he was looking at but he knew, from a lifetime of familiarity with his own soul and without any shred of doubt, what it  _ wasn’t _ . 

Not a molecule of that red magic belonged to him. 

_ Oh, _ a voice said.  _ You’re much more clever than Frisk. _

Sans stiffened. 

Nothing in the lab moved or made a sound. Barely twitching his head to the side Sans scanned the room, but the lab was empty. He was alone.

_ Well, not entirely, _ the voice spoke again. 

“what  _ the fuck _ .” Sans banished his soul, quickly returned it to his chest, and put a wall to his back. No one else was here— _ definitely  _ alone. At least, physically alone. But the voice wasn’t physical, was it?

_ See? That’s what I mean _ . The words formed in Sans mind without any specific or identifiable voice. If they weren’t so startling and foreign, he might have mistook the thoughts for his own. _ Frisk just thought I was their conscience. I let them think that, but it’s clear the same approach won’t work with you. Dealing with an intelligent host will be refreshing. _

Sans tried to decide if he was going crazy, or actually dealing with a bonafide case of possession. A panicked laugh bubbled out of him. He didn’t know which option was worse. 

_ Definitely possession, if that’s the way you want to look at it. But I’d like to think of this as a business arrangement. We can help each other get what we want. _

“ _ hellllll _ no,” Sans said. “hell no. fuck this.” Sans quickly crossed his lab and snatched up his jacket, intent on being anywhere but here.

_ Surely you realize you can’t simply run away from this conversation? Anywhere you go you’ll take me with you. _

“stop talking!” Sans scraped a hand over his skull. Oh hell, now what? Think! It was impossible to keep his thoughts straight when— 

_ Really, now, I think you’re overreacting.  _

—KEEP HIS THOUGHTS STRAIGHT when they kept being interrupted. He had to focus. He had to figure out what was happening to his soul. What could he do? Options, what options did he have. 

His old lab at the Core—there had to be some equipment there. Good, that was a start. Then— 

Something loud banged against the lab door and Sans jumped. What on earth? 

“SANS!”

Oh, hell. 

“BROTHER, ARE YOU IN THERE?”

_ Well that is incredibly poor timing. _

Not now,  _ stars _ , not now. His brother getting involved in this mess was the last thing he needed. Sans held his breath, attempting to embody the idea of silence.

“THAT QUESTION WAS REDUNDANT,” Papyrus continued, “AS I KNOW YOU ARE IN THERE. YOU ALWAYS COME HERE WHEN SOMETHING IS BOTHERING YOU!”

Shit, he had him there. But as Sans always kept the door locked, he could just take a shortcut out and Papyrus would be none the wiser.

“BROTHER, I AM VERY WORRIED ABOUT YOU,” Papyrus said. “SOMETHING IS CLEARLY BOTHERING YOU, EVEN IF YOU WILL NOT TALK TO ME ABOUT IT. AS SUCH, IF YOU DO NOT COME OUT TO ME, THEN I WILL BE FORCED TO BREAK DOWN THE DOOR AND COME TO YOU!”

_ Would he? _ The voice sounded amused. 

No way. Papyrus didn’t break other people’s stuff.

“AND IF YOU BELIEVE I WILL NOT, I ASSURE YOU I CERTAINLY WILL!” Papyrus continued. “I HAVE SAVED UP SEVERAL GOLD PIECES FROM GUARD DUTY, AND WILL EXPEND THEM ON A NEW DOOR IF NECESSARY. THAT IS HOW MUCH I CARE ABOUT YOU!”

He was bluffing. He was bluffing, right?

_ Oh, I don’t think he is. _

There was a short pause. “BROTHER, PLEASE UNDERSTAND THAT I TAKE NO PLEASURE IN INVADING YOUR PRIVACY, BUT THIS IS FOR YOUR OWN G—”

“okay, okay, wait!” Sans caved. “hold up a sec. i’m coming.” He glanced around the shop; there was no time to hide the damming, red magic that still stained the floor. Sans would just have to keep his brother from coming inside. Taking a shortcut outside, Sans appeared on the snowy walk behind his brother.

“hey, bro.” 

Calm, calm, appear calm. Now was not the time to give Papyrus any more reasons to suspect something was going on. 

Papyrus turned around. “SANS!” Before he could even respond Papyrus scooped his brother up into a hug. “WHY DID YOU RUN OFF LIKE THAT? YOU MADE ME VERY WORRIED!”

“sorry, paps,” Sans said, tensely waiting out the hug. Papyrus only released him to give his brother a disappointed, expectant look. “i, uh. i wasn’t feeling well.” 

_ How convincing.  _

“THAT IS EXCEPTIONALLY OBVIOUS,” Papyrus said. “YOU HAVE NOT BEEN BEHAVING WELL. WHAT IS THE MATTER?”

“magic’s acting up,” Sans said. He really didn’t want to lie to his brother, but there was no way in hell he was going to tell him the truth. “thought i could take care of it on my own, and i didn’t want to worry you, so… heh, guess i botched that up, huh?”

“YOU ASSUREDLY DID,” Papyrus agreed. “SANS, YOU CAN’T SIMPLY RUN OFF IF SOMETHING IS BOTHERING YOU. NOTHING IS EASIER TO DO ON YOUR OWN!”

“even being sick?” Sans half-heartedly teased.

“ESPECIALLY BEING SICK!” Papyrus said. “YOU NEED SOMEONE TO COOK AND CLEAN AND TAKE CARE OF YOU!”

“you do all at even when i’m not sick,” Sans pointed out.

_ That’s pathetic.  _

Shut up!

“NYEH,” Papyrus chuckled. “I DO, DON’T I? THEN THAT JUST MAKES IT DOUBLY IMPORTANT TO TAKE CARE OF YOU NOW!” Papyrus fixed him with a more serious look. “ _ ARE _ YOU SICK? IS THAT WHAT THIS IS ALL ABOUT?”

Sans gave a non committal shrugged. “looks that way.”

Papyrus took a long moment to scrutinize his brother, then gave a decisive nod. “ALRIGHT. OFF TO BED WITH YOU, THEN! I’LL TAKE CARE OF EVERYTHING FROM HERE.”

As Papyrus began to lead them back to the house, Sans allowed himself to relax a modicum. “thanks, bro.” He could lock himself in his room and then take a shortcut to Hotland. Then he could figure out what to do about his soul.

_ Or we could take the opportunity to talk, _ the voice said.  _ You want to protect your brother, don’t you? I can help you. I can make you stronger. _

“you leave him out of this,” Sans hissed.

“BROTHER?”

“nothing,” Sans said quickly. Papyrus was staring, so Sans busied himself with putting on his jacket to avoid his brother’s look. 

“SANS! THAT JACKET IS FILTHY!” Papyrus exclaimed. 

Sans froze. “oh. i forgot.” He quickly started to peel it back off, trying to fold the stained spots away. Was there red magic on his jacket, too? Shit, he hadn’t looked. “got a little sick in the lab. sorry, it’s gross.” 

Papyrus gasped. “OH, BROTHER! YOU DIDN’T TELL ME IT WAS THAT BAD! I’LL GO CLEAN IT UP RIGHT AWAY.”

“no, wait!” Sans stopped Papyrus. “really, it’s okay, i mean, uh, you can just leave it. i’ll clean it up on my own.”

“DON’T BE ABSURD, SANS,” Papyrus said. “YOU ARE IN NO STATE TO BE WORRYING ABOUT SUCH THINGS. NOW HAND OVER YOUR JACKET AS WELL AND I CAN HAVE IT WASHED BY THE TIME YOU WAKE UP.”

Sans turned his jacket away when Papyrus held out his hand. “really not necessary, bro,” he protested weakly. 

_ This is getting tiresome. _

“OF COURSE IT IS NECESSARY! I WILL NOT LET YOU SLEEP IN DIRTY CLOTHES. AT LEAST,” Papyrus amended, “NOT WHILE YOU ARE SICK.” 

“appreciate it, paps, but i got this,” Sans said, shying away again as Papyrus reached for his jacket. 

_ Why don’t you just leave? This conversation isn’t going anywhere. _

Papyrus frowned. “YOU ARE NOT BEHAVING RATIONALLY.”

“heh, yeah,” Sans grimaced. “i’m not thinking straight. guess i better get to bed, right?” He tried to edge towards the house, but Papyrus didn’t budge.

_ I could always make you leave.  _

Fuck off.

_ It wouldn’t even be that hard.  _

Papyrus was now squinting at Sans in deep suspicion. “BROTHER. ARE YOU HIDING SOMETHING?”

Sans’ soul went cold. “what?” He tried to force a smile. “‘course not. why’d you think that?”

But Papyrus’ face had already fallen. “YOU  _ ARE  _ HIDING SOMETHING. WHAT IS IT, SANS? WHY WON’T YOU LET ME HELP?” 

_ Because he’d just get hurt, wouldn’t he? And you can’t have that. The only way to protect him is to keep him isolated.  _

Shut up!

“shut—uh, i mean, paps, look. it’s... complicated.”

“IT IS NOT!” Papyrus objected, and Sans flinched. “YOU INSIST UPON SECRETS LIKE I AM SOME CHILD, BUT I AM THE ONE TAKING CARE OF YOU, NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND!”

“i, i know,” Sans floundered. “i’m sorry. i just can’t—” 

_ You want to leave, but you lack the commitment to do even that. _

Be quiet!

Sans huffed out a breath and rubbed at his skull. “—i can’t think—” 

“WELL IF YOU WOULD SIMPLY TALK TO ME—” 

_ I can help you. I can give you the power to take the things you want. I can be your Determination. _

“—just leave me alone!”

The shout echoed down the street, and went unanswered. An chilling silence followed, shocking Sans out of his confusion. Papyrus looked like he’d been slapped.

“i’m sorry,” Sans said. “i didn’t mean that. i’m sorry.” He took a step back. 

Papyrus didn’t say anything. 

“i—i gotta go figure something out. i’ll be back. i promise.” Sans took another step back. 

Papyrus finally stirred. “DO YOU WANT ME TO STAY?” 

Sans felt like his soul was shattering. He didn’t have a choice. 

“yeah.”

Sans waited, but when Papyrus didn’t respond he let his gaze fall away. Papyrus had always worn his feelings on his sleeve, and it hurt too much for Sans to see his brother’s crestfallen face now. Sans lingered a moment longer, searching for something to say, but he’d already said enough. 

Sans took a shortcut to Hotland, and the voice in his head smiled. 


	6. Alphys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you like dialog and exposition you sure are in for a treat!

Alpys stopped at the top of the dark staircase and flicked her flashlight on, a thousand anime horror plots playing through her head. Was this the setup for a gorey vampire thriller? Or maybe a supernatural haunting. She swept her flashlight down the stairs, and the beam was swallowed by the darkness. Alphys hoped this was the moment the protagonist first encountered the beast and got to show off their awesome skills, and not the moment that the throwaway character died to prove the situation was serious.

Haha. What were the chances of that?

The stairs clanked with each step she took downward. Ugh, she hated everything about this. Nobody had been down this wing in years! But if someone got hurt messing around with old, abandoned equipment, then the blame would fall on her.

Alphys stepped out onto the landing and cast her flashlight down the hall; it split three ways, each as creepily dark and dusty as the other. Which way would she pick if she was in an anime? The middle, definitely. But the second she moved, that’s when a shadow would dash behind her! And she’d turn around, and there’d be nothing there, and then—

Alphys spun around and pointed her flashlight up the stairs, but the steps were empty. Her soul was beating in her ears and her hands were starting to feel clammy.

“Heheh.” Alphys unsuccessfully laughed it off.

As she returned her flashlight to the hallway her light caught against something on the wall. A lightswitch! Dare she even hope? Alphys kept a careful back to the wall as she edged over, alternating her flashlight down the three passageways. If something was going to attack, it would be now, while her attention was elsewhere. Alphys held her breath as she quickly snatched her hand out to flip the switch—

—And the lights sluggishly flickered on.

Oh.

Well.

She really needed to reign in her imagination.

Alphys awkwardly tucked her flashlight away and turned back to observe her surroundings. The hallways were still dusty, but they didn’t give off quite the same macabre air when humming with familiar fluorescent light. Picking a path at random (the middle one after all) Alphys started down the abandoned medical wing.

One of the scientist working a floor up insisted they’d heard something crash somewhere beneath their feet; they’d gone to investigate only to find the area closed off. Alphys wished it could have just ended there. But, no, of course it couldn’t. As the Royal Scientist, taking care of everyone and everything in the lab was her duty. What would Undyne say if she knew Alphys had gotten spooked over a little bit of dust and dark?

A door swung open halfway down the hall, and Alphys’ resulting squeak hit a register only detectable to animals equipped with echolocation.

“...ound here somewhere…” There was a pause as the monster looked up at the lights. “...looks like.” Then, without turning in Alphys’ direction, he tried the next door, found it locked, and vanished into thin air.

Alphys blinked.

_“Sans?”_

What on Earth was he doing down here? Alphys carefully approached the door, hesitating a moment before she stood up on her toes to peer in the window.

The room was dark, with a muted light shining from within. She could see vague movements, obscured by shifting shadows, but couldn’t tell what Sans was doing. Alphys chewed at her lip, stepping away from the window to deliberate. Confrontation really wasn’t one of her strong suits, but this was a restricted area and the fact that Sans hadn’t even bothered to _ask_ for her permission rubbed her the wrong way. Alphys pulled out a keychain and flipped through the ring until she found the master key. Inserting it into the lock, she turned the handle and the door screeched open.

A light flashed over her and Alphys flinched back, raising a hand to cover her eyes.

“H-hey!” she objected, squinting through her fingers. The light dimmed and then turned aside, and Alphys carefully lowered her arm.

“...alphys?”

“Of c-course it’s me,” Alphys said, blinking away the spot in her vision. The light from the hallway stretched past Alphys and fell over Sans, who stood in the middle of the room with one eye closed against the light. His hand rested on a blaster. “W-what the heck is that for?!”

“oh.” Sans glanced at the giant skull. “couldn’t find a light.”

Pointedly, Alphys reached over to the wall and flipped the room’s switch; the cracked fixture in the ceiling sputtered a few sparks, and went out.

“...Ah.”

“heh.” Sans smiled slightly. “so what’re you doing here?”

“Th-that should be _my_ questions!” Alphys said. “You h-haven’t been back here in forever and s-suddenly you show up in a creepy old abandoned part of the lab?!”

“it used to be the infirmary,” Sans said. “didn’t realized it’d moved.”

“O-of course we moved it!” Alphys said. How could someone that had just been caught breaking into a lab act so relaxed about it? “I m-mean who puts a medical wing in a b-basement? We relocated not long after you l-left.”

“huh.” Sans rubbed at an eye as he glanced around the room. “guess i didn’t realize how long it’d been.”

Some of Alphys’ wind left her. “Almost t-ten years.”

And it had been just as long since the Accident.

Everything had changed that day. After the Core narrowly avoided a meltdown, sacrificing half of the labs to Hotland’s magma pools in the process, countless scientists had left their jobs and Alphys had been forced to step up as Royal Scientist. Not that she blamed them for leaving, but she wasn’t a natural leader and had never considered herself the brightest scientist in the room. 

It should have been Sans. But he’d left, and had never come back—not even to visit.

“yeah.” Sans said. “guess so.” He banished his blaster then, and the blue-white glow it had been providing disappeared with it. Sans turned back to Alphys, half concealed by the room’s shadows. “look, i don’t wanna bother ya anymore than i have. i just gotta find a soul scanner and i’ll be out of your hair. or hide, heh.”

“A… soul scanner?” Alphys repeated.

“yeah, you know.” Sans stuffed his hands in his pockets. “those portable trait analyzers we used to have. use ‘em on patients and stuff.”

“I k-know what you’re talking about,” Alphys said. “But… wh-what do you need it for?”

A flicker of annoyance passed over Sans’ face, and he looked away with tense frown. Alphys recoiled at the reaction, but as Sans continued to remain silent she began to suspect the scowl hadn’t been directed at her.

“...Sans?”

“what?” His gaze snapped back to her, eyelights slow to focus. “sorry. guess i zoned out there for a sec.”

“Y-yeah.” By now, alarm bells were going off in Alphys’ head. Something about all this was off. Of course, the fact that Sans was here looking for a soul scanner was beyond unusual, but Alphys was beginning to suspect there was something else going on. She stopped to scrutinize Sans.

Maybe she hadn’t been looking very closely before, or perhaps it had just taken this long for her eyes to adjust to the dim light, but now that she was really paying attention it was apparent there something was wrong with him. Dark shadows hung beneath Sans’ eye sockets, and his eyelights kept hazing in and out of focus. Even the way he stood was unsettling—guarded, like an animal ready to dart away at the slightest hint of danger.

“Sans,” Alphys spoke carefully. “...Are you okay?”

“heh.” Sans tuned away. “sorry to take you away from your work, alph. i’ll find the scanner on my own.”

“W-wait!” Alphys objected, taking a step into the room. Sans edged back, but didn’t teleport away. “W-we’ve got a few in storage. I can show you where t-to find them.”

Sans was silent for a long moment. It was so long that, as the silence stretch, Alphys was starting to think he wasn’t going to respond. A shadow of the conflicted look she’d seen him don just a few moments ago passed over him once more, but before Alphys could fill the quiet with some sort of stammered apology, Sans finally spoke.

“yeah,” he forced out with a strained breath. Sans rubbed at his forehead and sighed. “that’d be great. please.”

Alphys swallowed and gave a small nod. Whatever was bothering Sans, Alphys wasn’t going to push it. If he needed her help then it was the least she could do to provide it. As a former colleague—and a former friend.

“Th-this way,” she said, heading back for the stairs. “It’s not f-far.”

Sans wordlessly followed. Alphys had a thousand things she wanted to say, but it didn’t seem like the right time for any of them. Sans wasn’t exactly an open book in the best of moods, and his current disposition was clearly not inclined toward talkativeness. Alphys always felt awkward in these times of silences, but if Sans didn’t want to talk—

“so... why do you think it’s down here?”

Alphys gave a start. “W-what?”

“the medical wing.” Sans shrugged a shoulder in vague indication of their surroundings. “you said it yourself. who puts an infirmary in the basement?”

“Oh.” Alphys stopped at the base of the stairs, sparing the question a moment of thought. “I don’t know. I guess, it was just always like that. Right?” She started up the steps.

“i guess.” The staircase clanked metallically beneath their feet. “and you moved it once you took over?”

“Mm, yeah, a year or two after,” Alphys said. “J-just didn’t seem convenient.”

“yeah.” A pause. “say… do you remember who the royal scientist was before you took over?”

“B-before?” Alphys frowned, pushing open the door at the top of the stairs. “Um, no, not really. I guess they must of left w-when everyone else quit.” When Sans quit. “Why do you ask?” She held the door open for Sans.

“eh.” Sans looked around as they stepped out; the lab was probably nothing like how he remembered it. “digging around down there just got me thinking. guess i’m just tryin’ to take my mind off things.”

Sans looked even worse close up. His clothes were a wrinkled, stained mess, and he smelled like he’d recently been sick. He was smiling, like he always did, but this mask was clearly forced, matching his tense posture. That coupled with his sunken features and clouded eyelights marked all the signs of magic fatigue—with a few extra worrying symptoms besides.

Sans noticed Alphys staring. “you said it was close?” he said, pointedly steering her back to the task at hand.

“Oh! Y-yeah.” Alphys quickly turned away, making for the storage room. “It’s j-just around the corner. Um. N-no one wanted to haul everything across the labs so we just g-grabbed the closest room we c-could find and dumped all the old equipment there.” She was rambling, and she knew it, but it was better than letting Sans’ oppressive silence take over again. “Actually, s-some of the equipment in here w-was stuff we could never really figure out how to use, but it all seemed t-too expensive to throw away. Y-you could always take a look at them sometime if you l-like.” Alphys stopped at the door, unlocking it and turning on the light, then stepped aside for Sans. “Y-you’d probably have better luck getting them working than m-me.”

Sans paused in the doorway to give Alphys a perplexed look. For a moment his eyes came into focus. “what’re you talking about, alph? you’re a way better engineer than me. stop selling yourself short.”

“Oh.” Alphys blushed, and followed Sans into the room. “W-well. You were always better at the science stuff.”

Sans made a noncommittal grunt, already weaving through the room’s ancient clutter. Alphys hesitated by the door, then followed him into the mechanical mess.

“I-it’s true,” she insisted. “You were the best lab p-partner I ever had.” The fact that he’d been her only partner was the beside the point. “It wasn’t the s-same after you left.”

Alphys came around a machine to find him crouched beside a mountain of cardboard boxes, examining a thin, plastic tablet buried beneath the stack. He glanced up at her, then looked away. His eyes were distant again.

“sorry.”

Alphys spoke quietly. “H-how come you never came back?”

Sans put a hand on the box, then the two of them vanished. He returned a moment later without the box. “dunno,” he said, tugging at the monitor. The boxes on top of it were still too heavy. “it felt wrong, somehow.”

“W-why’d you leave in the first place, then?”

Sans sighed. “i dunno, alphys. i just don’t.” He performed the same disappearing act with another box, and was finally able to pry the scanner free. “after everything, the idea of coming back here just made me feel terrible.”

Alphys didn’t want to, but she understood. After the accident, everything about being in the lab had felt _wrong_. It didn’t make any sense—no one had even gotten hurt during the meltdown—but it had taken years for her to shake the feeling of unease.

Sans stood up and dusted off the scanner, checking that it could turn on.

“S-so why come back now?” Alphys asked. “If it f-feels so terrible.”

“heh.” Sans smiled sardonically. “guess i’m just picking the lesser of two terribles.”

Alphys’ soul sank. He really wasn’t going to let her in, was he?

“T-take care, Sans,” she said. “I h-hope you know what you’re doing.”

Sans’ smile faltered. He looked at the soul scanner, then at Alphys, and rubbed his head.

“...listen,” Sans hesitated. “...i should probably tell you something.” Sans grimaced and looked away. “you’re probably the best person to tell. just in case.”

Goosebumps prickled Alphys’ skin; she didn’t like where this was going. But she didn’t dare interrupt.

Sans grimaced, and massaged his temple. “It’s—there’s some stuff going on. time anomaly stuff. a human in the underground and—” Sans speech was becoming increasingly halting, and he stopped to press his eyes shut. “just want you to keep an eye out. with your scanners. if they show up i might—no, that’s not what i—i can’t—there’s—m-my soul—ah, shit.” Sans deflated, his pained expression giving way to resignation. After a moment of silence he sigh. “nevermind. just forget everything i said.” Sans finally met Alphys gaze, and there was something strange in his eyes. “in fact, it’d probably be best if you kept your distance.”

 _Fear_ , Alphys realized. He was afraid.

“Sans,” Alphys started, but he just shook his head.

“sorry to bother you. and thanks for all the help. see you, alph.”

And without any further formalities, he and the scanner were gone.

Alphys stood there, not knowing what to think. He’d mentioned a human—in the Underground!—and time anomalies? He wanted Alphys to watch for something, but he hadn’t said what. No, he hadn’t _been able_ to say what. There was something else he’d been trying to tell her. And something about his soul? What was she supposed to make of all that?

“Oh dear,” Alphys mumbled, pulling out her phone. After some indecision, she dialed a number and held the phone up to her ear, tapping her nail against its case in agitation. It rang twice before picking up.

“H-hey, it’s me,” Alphys said. “Um. N-no, I’m fine. It’s just… something strange happened that you should know about. Have you t-talked to Papyrus recently? ...Well, it’s about his b-brother…”

 

<3

 

Waterfall was riddled with natural caves, one of which Sans picked to set up shop. His personal lab—and home—were both out of the question. At least the damp caves came with their own bioluminescent lighting, so he wouldn’t have to rely on a blaster. He supposed that was something.

“why’d you do that?” Sans turned the scanner on and began fiddling with the setting. It had been ages since he’d used one of these.

_Do what, Sans?_

“you didn’t want me to tell alphys about you.”

_Only out of concern for you._

Sans snorted. Why did he find that hard to believe?

_I suspected there would be some inaccuracies in what you said, and i didn’t want her to misunderstand. You have yet to hear me out._

“i’ll learn more than enough with this,” Sans said, holding up the tablet. The screen displayed a variety of metrics, all of which were currently idling. Sans cupped his free hand before his chest, and willed his soul to manifest.

“...shit,” Sans breathed, straining to convince his soul to appear. His magic was still acting up—not to mention alarmingly low—and he was not at all in the relaxed mindset usually needed to summon the construct. (Stars, he was so tired.) Gradually, reluctantly, it faded into view.

“aw, hell,” Sans sighed. It looked worse than last time. While the sliver of blood-red magic remained unchanged, even more veins had sprouted and were worming their way into the rest of his soul. The sight made him feel ill.

_Don’t be so dramatic._

“fuckin’ underreaction if anything.”

Sans slowly guided the soul away from his chest, stopping before it became too uncomfortable, and passed the scanner over it. It took the machine a few moments to pick up the soul’s signal, then the display illuminated in a flurry of statistics.

Dominant traits: Patience and Determination, by about a ratio of about 9-1. Yeah, no surprise there.

Health: 1. Typical.

“...out of _three_?!”

_That’s embarrassingly low._

“i’m only supposed to have a max health of one!”

_Sounds like a personal problem._

“what the hell.” Sans skimmed over the other readouts. “lvl 4?”

_You did kill Frisk._

Sans assumed they meant the human. “that’s not enough to get to lvl 4. and anyway, their death was undone. it’s gotta be from you.”

 _Hm._ The voice considered. _I never killed anyone in my living days. I suppose it could be some remnant of the time I spent with Frisk._

Time spent with Frisk...

It was only then, finally, that it clicked. They’d been with the kid when the human had started to kill monsters. And they been in Sans’ head when he tried to take the human’s soul. It call came back to them didn’t it?

“you’re the reason all this shit is happening.” He felt like an idiot for not putting it together before now. Was it from sleep deprivation, or had they been steering him away from the truth? Anger began to boil in his gut as Sans clutched his soul back to his chest. “you made the kid wipe out the underground, and you made me try to take their soul. it was _you_ , wasn’t it?”

The voice tsked. _Absolutely not. I might nudge you along, but I can’t make you do anything you wouldn’t be willing to do yourself._

“bullshit,” Sans spat. “i’d never absorb a human soul.”

 _Never?_ That seemed to amuse them. _Not even to keep time from resetting? Not even to stop the human? Or save your brother? You wanted a way to break the cycle, after all._

“not like that,” Sans objected.

_Well, you can’t have it both ways. It was clear what you wanted; I just gave you enough Determination to see it through._

“that wasn’t what i wanted,” Sans said, but he was less sure of that now. Had there been some small part of him desperate to end it? No, it didn’t matter. He would never choose that. Frustrated, Sans dismissed his soul back into his chest.

“why are you doing this?”

 _Ah,_ they smiled. _Now we’re finally getting somewhere. As I’ve said before, I believe we stand to mutually benefit from our arrangement. The predicament in which I find myself is not by choice; as such I am merely adapting to my circumstances until I can obtain that which is owed me. In return, I can help you get what you want—an end to the time anomalies, freedom from the Underground, a true death for Frisk—name it, and I’ll lend you my power to assist._

“uh huh,” Sans said, sounding entirely unconvinced. “and what exactly is it you’re ‘owed’?”

 _My life._ There was a flicker of vehemence in their words. _I exchanged it for a promise that wasn’t kept. I died for nothing. Now I will take it back._

“now who’s being dramatic.” Sans sighed, absently rubbing his eyes as he slumped against the cave wall. Stars, he was not in the right headspace for this kind of shit. “look, sounds justified and all, but i don’t think i’m your guy.”

_On the contrary, Sans, you’re exactly what I need._

Oh yeah, that didn’t sound ominous.

_The fragments of my soul were first awoken by Frisk’s Determination. The more their LVL grew, the more their power grew, and so did my strength. I was slow to revive, but in time it became clear I would only be able to fully resurrect with a complete soul of my own._

_However, in the end, Frisk rejected me. I was forced to consider alternate options. I thought that if my soul fragment incubated in a magic enriched environment I could perhaps regain some of my strength._

“so i’m your personal, non-consensual magic donor.” Fatigue dragged Sans down the wall until he was seated on the floor of the cave. “great. ‘s that why i’m about ready to pass out?”

_I suspect that’s more likely due to having gone two days without sleep._

“heh.” Sans chuckled weakly. “fair enough. but you’re still getting the blame for that one. i’m guessing me being able to remember the past timeline’s on account of your determination?”

 _Probably so_ , they admitted.

“there ya go. your fault.” Sans yawned, and set the soul scanner aside. He supposed this was as good a place to sleep as anywhere. (Not counting home. But that wasn’t an option.)

“look, i said it before, but i’m not your guy.” Sans looked up at the gently glowing gems that dusted the cave’s ceiling and walls. “the human’s pretty high up on my shit list, but you’re not exactly far behind them. i’m not gunna absorb a human soul on your account.” And he was going to figure out a way to get them out of his head ASAP—whether they liked it or not.

 _Hm._ The voice sounded more thoughtful than upset. _Well, it’s disappointing you feel that way. Frisk was equally unreasonable. But you know, I learned something through that experience. A weak soul of Determination cannot overcome a strong soul of Determination. The traits oppose, you see. But not all soul traits interact the same._

Their words unsettled Sans. His years of working in the lab had made him all too familiar with the different ways soul traits could be compatible—or incompatible. And pure, undiluted Determination was incompatible with just about all of them. Honestly, it was a miracle Sans was still holding together in the presence of so much Determination. None of their experiments had lasted this long.

 _Determination,_ they continued, _is all about drive. Conviction. Action. Domination. While Patience_ —Sans instinctively raised a hand to his chest— _might as well be the opposite. Hesitation. Inaction. Submissiveness. Convincing Frisk to do anything was always met with frustrating resistance. But I don’t think I’ll run into the same problem with you. A monster’s soul is already magnitudes weaker than a human's soul—but a soul of Patience?_ They smiled. _Well, it’s your nature, isn’t it? You_ want _someone else to take control._

“like hell,” Sans growled.

The voice giggled. _I suppose we’ll find out once you’re all rested up, won’t we? Tomorrow will be a busy day. Go to sleep, Sans._

With their words, a flood of exhaustion washed through him.

“yeah, don’t think i will,” Sans said, struggling against the weariness. He tried to get a foot beneath him, but the fatigue pulled him back down. It soaked through his bones and smothered his soul. Sans eyes flicked out—then back on as he vigorously shook his head and forced himself to push through the overwhelming exhaustion.

 _Admirable, but ultimately futile. Your body and soul need sleep, and you_ want _it besides._

“not if you’re forcing it on me.” Sans slumped over, and found himself too tired to get back up. “shit.”

_Oh? Was there anything else you were planning on doing? I was under the impression talk had become useless._

Sans could feel his consciousness slipping. “yeah, i mean... what’s not appealing about selling your soul to a ghost?” Sans rolled onto his back and stared at the cave’s gemstones as they slowly blurred out of focus. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to fight back. But it was becoming hard to think.

_I’m not a ghost._

“...coulda _ghoul_ ed me.” Heh. That was a good one.

_I used to be a human. A child._

“a human,” Sans mumbled, closing his eyes. As if one wasn't bad enough. “great. even better.”

_My name was Chara._

Chara. The name sounded distantly familiar to Sans. Something he’d heard in school? Sans couldn’t remember. He was tired. So tired.

“...still not... gunna help ya…”

 _Perhaps,_ Chara said, as Sans spiraled into sleep. _But something tells me you’ll have a change of heart._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, lots of words. On the bright side, it's gunna be a ride from here on out.


	7. Papyrus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one got a little long. Almost split it in two. Heads up: I'll be traveling the next couple weeks and then grad school starts back up, so from here on out I won't be sticking to the 1 chapter per week schedule. I'll try to put something out every other week, but no promises. 
> 
> Happy reading.

When Sans woke up, he was _awake_. He felt like he was buzzing with the caffeine of ten coffees—and wading through the fog of ten beers. If this was a hangover, it was the weirdest fucking hangover he’d ever had.

_Good morning, Sans._

Oh, right.

Sans opened his eyes to the cave in Waterfall. It had all seemed like a dream. He wished it was.

_Today we’re going to take Frisk’s soul._

“ugh.” Sans sat up, itching to move. Stars, he had so much energy—too much energy. This wasn’t normal. “still on about that?”

_Of course. Nothing has changed._

_Something_ had changed, Sans was sure. He was twitchy, ready to do something, but unable to focus on what. Sans blearily looked around the cave, and his eyes landed on the scanner. Right.

He booted up the device as he summoned his soul. It formed sluggishly… and entirely too red.

The white soul had nearly turned pink from the amount of Determination that had leaked into it. Sans stared at it for nearly a minute before he was able to comprehend what he was seeing.

“...what the fuck.”

_I see your magic stores have recovered._

“doesn’t look much like _my_ magic,” Sans said, moving the scanner over his soul. The display immediately filled out:

65% Patience, 35% Determination.

LVL 7

HP: 12/12

“ah hell,” Sans groaned, dropping the scanner to his side. His magic burned inside his bones like fire, crackling and fighting to be unleashed. Sans looked down at his hands. They felt thick. Ladened. Like his bones were pressurized and he was going to come apart from the inside out.

“you’re killing me,” Sans said. He didn’t feel anger or fear at the realization. Just dull certainty. “it’s gunna tear me apart.”

 _Your magic just needs to be stabilized,_ Chara said. _A human soul would accomplish that._

Sans returned his soul to his chest, trying to ignore the instinct to unleash some of the magic that had built within him. Stars, he was restless. He needed to do something. _Anything_.

_Find Frisk._

Anything but that.

“no.” Sans struggled to his feet, dully looking around for anything he could use to distract himself from the restless energy in his bones. “no. no. no. no.” He clung to it like a mantra. Like it could drown out their voice and the dazed fluttering of his soul.

_Well, if you don’t want to do it the easy way…_

Sans strumbled as heat rolled through his soul.

_Find Frisk._

“guh—no—”  Sans gasped. The pressure was building in his skull, forcing any trivial thoughts out of his mind. Focus—he had to stay focused.

_Stop fighting. Relax._

Sans tensed against the order, but it was hard to hold the posture. Determination was buzzing through him, scattering his concentration and burning through his bones. Sans clutched his head, finding himself short of breath.

“stop it.”

_Stop Frisk._

Sans lost his train of thought. Stop Frisk? Was that what he had been thinking? He’d wanted to stop something, but— wait—no, _no!_

“don’t do this,” Sans said. They’re not his thoughts, they’re not his thoughts, they’re not his thoughts—

_Submit._

“no,” he protested weakly. Panic welled up, and just as quickly began to fade away. Their Determination was like a hammer, and each new order beat his resolve thinner and flatter. “Stop. please.”

_Don’t think about it, Sans. It’s not important._

His thoughts slipped from his grasp and, though he didn’t understand why, it scared him. He was lost—confused—suddenly without context or direction, but with a deep certainty that something was wrong. Resisting the urge to panic, Sans blindly lashed out until he caught at an idea that felt familiar.

Important. Something was important?

_The human._

A bitter hatred surged to the forefront of Sans’ mind. The human. They were in the Underground.

_They’ll hurt your brother._

Not again. He wouldn’t let that happen.

The thought began to repeat over and over again, drowning out the rest of Sans’ thoughts. A small part of him resisted, confused and frightened that something wasn’t right—something unsettling was happening. But that quiet corner of his self was overpowered by the incessant drumming of _Not again. Not again. Not again._ Sans was going to protect his family. He was going to stop the kid. In the past, he’d hesitated, but now he was focussed.

Determined.

_Let’s pay Snowdin a visit._

Without hesitation, Sans vanished.

 

<3

 

Papyrus waited, but Sans didn’t come home.

Sans had promised he’d come back, though, and Sans _hated_ making promises. So Papyrus knew he’d come home eventually. Papyrus wasn’t worried.

He wasn’t worried one bit.

That night Papyrus made dinner like he always did. He set the table with two plates and piled both of them high with heaping portions of his very special super secret spaghetti recipe. At the end of dinner, he took the plates away: one empty, and one full.

Not even a little worried.

Papyrus tried to go to bed, but for some reason he couldn’t fall asleep. Perhaps it was because he didn’t read Peek-A-Boo With Fluffy Bunny that night. Sans usually read it to him. But that was okay. He could go one night without reading it. That was fine.

There was a knock on the front door, and Papyrus was out of his bed and down the stairs before his blanket fell to the ground.

Papyrus threw open the door. “SANS!”

The flower on his porch flinched back, darting a glance around. “He isn’t here, is he?”

“OH.” Papyrus felt his soul sink in disappointment. That wasn’t fair. It was still a friend. He shouldn’t be disappointed at seeing a friend. “HELLO, FLOWEY. NO, I’M AM SORRY TO TELL YOU MY BROTHER IS NOT HOME.”

“Whew, thank _god_ ,” Flowey said. “That could have been _really_ awkward. So can I come in or what?”

“OH,” Papyrus hesitated. “NORMALLY, I WOULD LOVE TO INVITE YOU TO MY HOUSE—THOUGH IT SEEMS YOU ALREADY KNOW WHERE I LIVE, SO THAT IS GOOD, I THINK—HOWEVER NOW IS NOT A GOOD TIME, AS IT IS GETTING RATHER LATE...”

“Trust me, now is the _best_ time for a chat,” Flowey said. He waved a leaf off to one side. “Oh yeah, also, I brought you a human.”

That made Papyrus stop. “I’M SORRY, FRIEND, I THINK I MISHEARD YOU. YOU SAID… YOU BROUGHT A HUMAN?”

“What, am I stuttering?” Flowery raised an eyebrow. “Human. H U M A N. You know, the ugly naked things you’ve been trying to capture all these years. Oh, for goodness—Frisk! Get over here! It’s safe, Sans isn’t here—I _told_ you I hadn’t seen him around.”

There was a few moments of quiet before a soft crunching of footsteps through snow approached the house, and then, to Papyrus’ astonishment, a small human stepped into the porchlight. They looked up at him with a small smile.

“Hi, Papyrus.”

Papyrus gasped. “YOU REALLY ARE A HUMAN! AND YOU KNOW MY NAME! THIS IS TRULY AN EXCEPTIONAL—” Papyrus faltered, and his soul dipped. “—AN EXCEPTIONAL DAY.”  

“In more ways than one, I bet,” Flowey snickered.

Papyrus looked at his friend. “FLOWEY, I MUST THANK YOU FOR BRINGING THE HUMAN DIRECTLY TO ME. OF COURSE, DESPITE PERSONAL DISTRACTIONS, MY DUTY AS A GUARD MUST COME FIRST!” With some effort, Papyrus puffed himself up. “YOU SHOULD BE HONORED, HUMAN, TO BE CAPTURED BY SUCH A DEDICATED AND HANDSOME SENTRY!”

Even though Papyrus had not said anything particularly funny, the human giggled and their smile seemed to grow a little less sad.

“I’m very honored,” they said. “But, I think… it might be a little too late at night to go through the whole process of being captured.”

“Seriously?” Flowey groaned. “Can we just get to the point?”

The human appeared to shush him.

“HM.” Papyrus considered the human’s words. “THAT IS A VERY EXCELLENT POINT, TINY HUMAN. I’M SURE IT WOULD TAKE YOU MUCH TOO LONG TO FIGURE OUT ALL OF MY PUZZLES. WE WOULD BE UP ALL NIGHT!”

“Maybe in the morning, then?” they suggested.

“WELL,”  Papyrus said, “I SUPPOSE UNDYNE DID NOT SPECIFY YOU NEEDED TO BE CAPTURED _IMMEDIATELY…_ ”

“If I’m not going to be captured immediately, then do you think we could talk first?” The human tucked their hands into their armpits and scrunched up their shoulders. “It’s… it’s about Sans.”

“Ugh, finally,” Flowey said.

Papyrus froze, and all his false bravado evaporated. “SANS?” His voice was quieter than usual. “WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT MY BROTHER?”

“I know he’s in trouble,” the human said, glancing over at Flowey. “And I think he’ll need all our help to save him.”

“More like stop him,” Flowey added.

Papyrus hesitated. “I AM NOT SURE HE WANTS MY HELP.” In fact, he was quite sure he didn’t. Papyrus could still hear the last thing he’d said. _just leave me alone!_ “HOWEVER,” he continued, “SOMETIMES, I THINK, THE ONES THAT DON’T WANT HELP NEED IT THE MOST. DOES THAT MAKE SENSE?”

The smile on the human’s face faded, and they looked sad once more. But when they spoke, they said, “Yeah. That makes sense.”

Papyrus and the human regarded each other thoughtfully.

“...Wellll, glad that’s all sorted,” Flowey said as the silence began to linger. “So can we come in now?”

“OH!” Papyrus said, only then noticing how the small human was shivering from the cold. “OF COURSE! YOU MUST BE FREEZING! HOW UNGRACIOUS OF ME. I KNOW JUST THE THING TO WARM YOU UP!” He traipsed into the house, heading straight for the kitchen.

“Gee, I wonder what that could be,” Flowey said.

“Oh, hush.” The human picked up Flowey as he uprooted himself, and followed Papyrus inside, shutting the door after. “It’s okay, Papyrus, I already ate a spider donut. I’m not hungry.”

Papyrus hesitated, a refrigerated tub of spaghetti in hand. “ARE YOU CERTAIN?”

“Yeah.” The human crawled up into a seat at the kitchen table and swung their legs beneath their chair. They sounded very serious for someone whose feet couldn’t even reach the floor. “We should probably get started. There’s a lot to say.”

Papyrus reluctantly put the spaghetti away and sat down next to them.

“Um, I guess I should start with my name. I’m Frisk, and this isn’t the first time we’ve met.”

The human was right; it turned out they did have a lot to say.

Papyrus tried to keep up, but it was difficult for him to understand all of it. There were timelines, and dead human ghost souls, and Determination, and save points—and Papyrus could remember none of it, though he was told it was something he’d lived through before. It was too much for Papyrus to process all at once… even if he suspected he was only being told a half-truth. He’d lived with Sans long enough to know what those sounded like. Still, it explained much of Sans’ behavior over the past few days. As much as it frightened him, he felt relieved to know the truth.

“I DO NOT UNDERSTAND HOW I AM SUPPOSE TO HELP SANS, HOWEVER,” Papyrus said. “IT SEEMS YOU DO NOT EVEN KNOW HOW TO HELP HIM, EITHER.”

“Well… maybe not,” Frisk admitted.

“Definitely not,” Flowey added.

“But I think you just being around to help is good,” Frisk said. “Maybe he won’t… um…”

“WON’T WHAT?” Papyrus said.

“Maybe he won’t kill them if you’re there,” Flowey said.

“WHAT?” Papyrus balked, horrified. “SANS WOULD NEVER DO SUCH A THING!”

Flowey cracked up, and Frisk glanced away. “Well…”

“YOU SAID THE SOUL MIGHT MAKE HIM DIFFERENT—AGGRESSIVE—BUT TO KILL SOMEONE, THAT—” Papyrus groped for the right words to express his dismay. “—THAT IS SIMPLY UNTHINKABLE!”

“It wouldn’t really be him, Papyrus,” Frisk said. “I’m sure it wouldn’t be by choice, but…”

“Hah, that’s rich,” Flowey said. “It’d hardly be the first time he—Ow! Hey!” Frisk had pinched one of Flowey’s leaves; he glared at them, then after a moment he frowned and turned away. “Tch, whatever. It’s not like I care.”

Frisk sighed. “It would just be good to have you there,” they said, looking back to Papyrus. “If anyone can get him to listen, it’s you.”

Papyrus hesitantly nodded. “I WILL TRY TO HELP HOWEVER I CAN.” But his brother murdering someone? He couldn’t even begin to entertain the thought. Nothing—not even someone else—could make Sans do that. Right?

“And just in case,” Frisk said, “Flowey will be there to do… what he did before.”

Papyrus looked at the flower, who was still pouting. “WHAT DID YOU DO BEFORE?”

Flowey darted a glance at Frisk, then rolled their eyes. “Ugh. Let’s just say I helped us get back to the last save point.”

“You’ll do it again, right?” Frisk asked quietly. “If things… get bad?”

“Hehe,” Flowey grinned. “Well if you’re asking _nicely…_ ”

Frisk looked down at their lap. “Thanks.”

Papyrus looked between the two of them. He could recognize there was some deeper meaning to that exchange, but it was clear they had no interest in letting him in on their secret. Papyrus internally sighed. He supposed he should be grateful they’d told him anything at all. It was more than Sans had done.

They didn’t talk for much longer after that. No one seemed to have any ideas for how to help Sans, or what to do if they found him. Papyrus could see the disappointment in the human’s posture; they’d obviously been hoping to come up with something in talking to Papyrus, but he was just as lost—if not more so—as the rest of them. Papyrus set up some blankets on the couch for the human, and with a somber air he went to sleep.

 

 

And awoke to the human jumping on his bed.

“I got it!”

“WH—WHAT?” Papyrus fought his way back to consciousness. He’d hardly slept at all, and what little rest he’d managed to squeeze out of the night had been fraught with nightmares. “WHAT HAVE YOU GOT?”

“I know how to help Sans.” Frisk bounced on the edge of Papyrus’ mattress in excitement.

Papyrus sat up. “YOU DO?”

“Well,” they backtracked. “Not really. But I know who can! Alphys! She’s got all kinds of science things she can use to help. I’m sure of it!”

“OH,” Papyrus said. Alphys? He didn’t know her very well, except for what Undyne said about her. But Undyne _did_ say Alphys was the smartest, most talented scientist she knew, so perhaps there was some merit to the idea. “YOU REALLY THINK SO?”

“Yeah!” Frisk stopped bouncing, and leaned forward with an intent look. “I’ve got a plan,” they said. “First, we have to knock Sans out. I don’t think I’ll be much help in a fight, but maybe I can act as bait and distract him. At least, this time I’ll be prepared. I’ve gotten pretty good at dodging.”

“KNOCK HIM OUT?” Papyrus didn’t much like that idea. “I DO NOT WANT TO HURT HIM…”

“Well,” Frisk considered, “Can you stop him without knocking him out?”

“THAT SEEMS… UNLIKELY,” Papyrus admitted. “MY BROTHER CAN BE VERY SLIPPERY WHEN HE WANTS TO BE. BUT, EVEN IF I WANTED TO KNOCK HIM OUT, I AM UNSURE I WOULD BE ABLE TO RESTRAIN HIM LONG ENOUGH TO DO SO.”

“Hmm. What about Undyne?” Frisk said. “She can stop him, right?”

“OH.” Papyrus straightened up, the pieces slowly falling in place. Undyne’s specialty was crowd control. Her magic could root monsters in place, and if they needed to stop Sans—

“—OH! YES, I BELIEVE SHE CAN! HUMAN, YOU ARE A GENIUS!” Papyrus snatched up Frisk and tossed them in the air. The human shrieked in surprise, then broke into laughter as Papyrus caught and tucked them under his arm, springing from the bed. “WE MUST GO TELL HER AT ONCE!” He bounded down the stairs.

“Ugh, what? What’s with all the screaming?” Flowey perked up from his spot at the kitchen table, where Frisk had placed him in a plastic cup. “Did someone die?”

“WE ARE GOING TO SAVE MY BROTHER!” Papyrus declared.

“In your pajamas?” Frisk asked, tugging at his sleeve.

“WELL, PERHAPS I WILL CHANGE FIRST,” Papyrus amended. “BUT THEN WE WILL SAVE MY BROTHER!”

“What’s the deal?” Flowey asked, as Papyrus set the human down and then took the stairs two at a time back toward his room to retrieve his body armor.

“I got a plan,” Frisk said. They began tacking off the steps on their fingers. “First, we go find Undyne. Then, we convince her not to capture me. Then, we find Sans and get Undyne to stop him. _Then_ we take him to Alphys so she can do science on him.”

Flowey waited a moment, but Frisk appeared to be done. “That’s it?”

Frisk nodded eagerly.

“That’s a terrible plan.” Flowey said. “But I guess it’s better than anything else we’ve got.”

“CERTAINLY BETTER!” Papyrus finished strapping on the last of his battle body. “I AM SURE UNDYNE WILL BE ABLE TO HELP. SHE HAS NEVER LOST A BATTLE! WELL, APART FROM SPARRING WITH ASGORE. BUT EVEN SO!”

Frisk quickly pulled on their shoes and removed Flowey from his makeshift pot, following Papyrus out the door.

“Will Undyne be awake?” they asked, looking around at the empty streets. “It feels early.”

“IT IS EXCEPTIONALLY EARLY!” Papyrus agreed. “HOWEVER UNDYNE IS ALWAYS AWAKE! AT LEAST, SHE’S ALWAYS BEEN AWAKE WHENEVER I’VE KNOCK ON HER DOOR.”

“Uh, pretty sure that’s just because you woke her up,” Flowey said.

“NONSENSE! YOU CAN’T ANSWER THE DOOR WHILE YOU’RE ASLEEP!”

Flowey hopped down from Frisk’s grasp to burrow his roots in the snow. “What? That’s not what I—”

 “Maybe you should call her first anyway?” Frisk said, smiling and shaking their head at Flowey. “She probably won’t like seeing a human at her front door first thing in the morning. And she’ll probably try to capture me if we don’t get a chance to explain everything…”

“Again,” Flowey sighed, popping up further down the street. “This is why I stopped trying to tell people things ages ago. One reset and then you’ve got to repeat yourself all over again. _Ugh_ , it gets _so boring_.”

Papyrus didn’t like the sound of these “reset” things. If one occured, and he forgot everything, would they tell him? He hoped Flowey would, but his friend could sometimes have a troublingly detached attitude. And the human… well, Papyrus wasn’t sure what to make of the human. They seemed friendly, but that was what made him uneasy. Frisk knew all about Papyrus, while he knew relatively little about them. If they had been friends before, then why had they chose to “reset” everything? What wasn’t he being told?

“YOU WILL TELL ME, WON’T YOU?” Papyrus said, finally voicing his thoughts. “IF I FORGET?”

“Of course!” Frisk said. “We need your help! But hopefully we won’t have—”

Frisk pivoted and dove to the side, narrowly avoiding a bone that whipped the the air past them. They tumbled into the snow, quickly scrambling to their feet, and crouched low and guarded.

“WHAT—” Papyrus began.

“stay the _hell_ away from my brother.”

Papyrus turned around, and there he was. Sans. His brother. But Papyrus’ soul ached at what he saw, for the monster before him was not the same as the one he knew and loved.

Sans had never looked so furious. Excess magic was being sweat out of his body in worrying quantities, and his breaths were heavy and labored, forced through tight, clenched teeth. His eyes burned with magic, but they were hazy and out of focus—and most alarming of all, not all the magic was blue. Murderous intent hung thick in the air around him, so clear and concentrated that Papyrus took a frightful step back before he could stop himself.

“SANS,” Papyrus said, his voice cracking. “BROTHER. PLEASE COME HOME NOW.”

Sans’ gaze slowly drifted over to Papyrus, who quavered beneath his attention. “bro.” Sans’ voice was almost a growl. “get away from them.”

“THEY WANT TO HELP, SANS.” Papyrus swallowed. “YOU ARE NOT YOURSELF.”

“you don’t know what you’re talking about, paps,” Sans said. He jutted a finger at Frisk. “they don’t want to help. they’re a _human_. they’re dangerous.”

“I… AM AWARE THAT THEY HURT PEOPLE IN THE PAST,” Papyrus said. Frisk had stopped short of admitting as much, but it hadn’t been difficult for Papyrus to put together. “BUT I BELIEVE ANYONE CAN CHANGE! AND AT ANY RATE, I DO NOT THINK THE THINGS THEY DID WERE ENTIRELY THEIR FAULT IN THE FIRST PLACE.”

Sans first looked startled, then angry. His gaze snapped over to Frisk. “you _told_ him?”

“Sans, wait,” they started, but Sans didn’t let them finish. With a beckoning gesture the human’s soul was wrenched from their chest, drenched in blue. Sans jerked his hand towards the ground, and Frisk crashed into the snow. The forest colors dimmed as the group was cast into an encounter.

“SANS!” Papyrus objected, taking a step in his brother’s direction. Sans blinked away, puting Frisk between him and Papyrus.

“bet it wasn’t the whole truth, was it?” Sans fumed, ignoring his brother as he kept Frisk pressed into the ground. “just enough to get him on your side. so you could _use_ him _against_ me.” He practically spat out the words. “disgusting.”

“BROTHER, IT IS NOT LIKE THAT AT ALL,” Papyrus protested.

“no?” Sans looked back to his brother. In the encounter’s dim twilight, magic became more vibrant. Blue magic blazed in Sans’ eyes, but embers of red were smouldering there too, flaring up with each new burst of emotion. “did they tell you how many monsters they killed?” His expression abruptly contorted with grief. “did they tell you _who?_ ”

Killed?

Papyrus was too surprised to respond. That couldn’t be right. The human had indicated they’d done some bad things, but _murder?_ No, no one was capable of _that_. Papyrus looked at the human, still struggling to free themself from Sans’ magic grip, but their expression told him nothing.

Papyrus’ expression seemed to speak volumes, however.

“course not,” Sans sighed. His magic began to temper. “please, paps. just go home. i’ll take care of this.”

Before Papyrus had even formulated a reply, a hoot of laughter tore through the clearing.

“Boy, that’s rich!”

All eyes turned on Flowey.

“Did all that Determination make you forget what a hypocrite you are?” he sneered.

“Flowey, don’t!” Frisk warned. Sans, however, was regarding the flower thoughtfully.

“I mean, if you want to talk about kill counts,” Flowey continued, “you’ve probably got more under your belt than anyone here! And between Frisk and I, that’s saying something.”

Red magic consumed Sans’ right eye.

“you know,” he said, his voice strangely level, “you are absolutely right.”

Sans blinked over to Flowey.

“Whoa, ever heard of a personal bubble?” Flowey said.

“i believe that’s twice now you’ve stolen a kill from me,” Sans said, stepping toward the flower. Flowey’s smirk faltered with faint confusion, and he edged back.

“Flowey, get out of here!” Frisk called. Sans glanced in their direction.

“ah, i see,” Sans said. “he’s your failsafe, isn’t he? if you can’t stop me, then he finishes the job. suicidal, but rational; i almost admire it.” Sans shook his head as he turned back to Flowey. “you know, if it had just been once i might have been willing to give you a pass. but first asgore, and then frisk? honestly. it’s like you’ve made it your life’s goal to get in my way.”

“Ch-chara?” Flowey’s smile dissolved into fear. “W-wait! It wasn’t like that—I was just trying to help!” Flowey backpedalled as Sans continued to advance. “I’m on your side! Promise! Y-you want Frisk’s soul? I can still help! Please?”

An array of bones appeared behind Flowey, and if they hadn’t all fractured immediately upon formation in a sharp series of _crack_ s, he might not have known the attack was coming. The bones held their shape, but red dripped from their fissures. Flowey turned at the noise and caught sight of the broken constructs as Sans clacked his teeth in disappointment.

“you always were a crybaby.”

“Wait! Don’t—”

The bones shredded Flowey faster than his scraps could turn to dust. Only after his remains had dissolved into the snow did Sans turn to look at Frisk. “you next.”

Papyrus felt dizzy. Everything was happening so fast. This couldn’t be real, could it? Sans hadn’t just killed Flowey. He wouldn’t do such a thing—no matter what sort of strange, magical being was influencing him! Papyrus swayed and his soul felt like it was going to break. Everything about this was surreal. It had to be a dream—a terrible, awful dream. And when he woke up none of this would have happened, and Flowey would be alive, and Sans would be home—sleeping in, of course, like he always did—

Frisk cried out as their soul dragged them upright and across the trail toward Sans. He dropped them at his feet and dispelled the blue magic, forming a semicircle of fractured, bleeding bones around them instead. Frisk scrambled to their feet, glancing quickly at their enclosure, then snatched up a stick to level at Sans as if it were a knife. Their face was grim and determined.

“what’s with that look?” Sans asked. “it’s not like this is personal. _asriel_ was personal. you just have the misfortune of being a means to an end. don’t worry, it won’t go to waste. this time i’ll finish what was started. i’ll make sure the monsters are freed from the underground—and _stay_ free. because what kind of monster would take that away from them?” Sans laughed, and it was so wrong, so unmistakably _not Sans_ , that Papyrus felt sick.

“BROTHER,” Papyrus said, finally finding his voice. Sans didn’t turn away from Frisk, but tipped his head to look at Papyrus with his red eye.

“poor papyrus. too gentle for the realities of this world.”

Papyrus took a step toward Sans. “PLEASE STOP THIS.”

Sans smiled. “do you really—whoops.” Frisk sprung forward, jabbing their branch at Sans. He didn’t even bother dodging as a wave of bone sprung up before him and battered Frisk back, leaving shallow cuts in their clothes and exposed skin. Sans gave a disappointed sigh. “let’s not make this embarrassing.”

“BROTHER” Papyrus tried again, edging closer. “THIS ISN’T YOU!”

Sans kept his focus on Frisk this time and didn’t respond. Half of the bones that made Frisk’s enclosure turned to point inwards, leveling toward their chest.

“I CHOOSE TO BELIEVE YOU WILL NOT DO THIS,” Papyrus said. As he stepped closer a row of bones appeared between them, but Papyrus had already summoning a construct of his own and bashed his way through the wall as if it were made of nothing more than toothpicks. This time Sans did take notice.

“don’t,” he warned, glancing back at Papyrus. The red magic was flickering erratically, and he summoned another wave of constructs, this time aimed at Papyrus.

Papyrus stopped, and put a gloved hand on one of the splintered bones. He met Sans’ gaze unflinchingly. “YOU WILL NOT,” he said, and pushed the bone aside.

Sans took a step back, then hissed as he raised a hand to his head. “i said stop! i’ll kill them if you don’t!” To drive his point home one of his constructs speared through Frisk’s leg, and they fell to the ground with a cry of pain. Papyrus winced, but didn’t stop.

Sans growled, reaching out for Frisk. Their soul turned blue once more, but the magic stuttered. At the same time several of his bone constructs dissolve, and his hold on the others began to falter as the bones wobbled and fell to the ground.

“damn it,” Sans said, banishing all but one. The last he took in hand, stepping over to Frisk as he raised it overhead.

In one desperate leap Papyrus closed the distance and caught his wrist.

“ENOUGH, SANS.”

Sans trembled and his grasp tightened around the bone, but he didn’t move.

“LET IT GO,” Papyrus said, drawing the weapon back. Sans tensed against his grip, then shook as he let out a pained gasp.

“damn you,” he panted. “you think you’re stronger than me? you think you can do what needs to be done without my determination?”

Papyrus didn’t understand what Sans was talking about, and was going to ask when his brother suddenly went slack, and his trembling stopped.

“yeah,” Sans sighed. “i do. see, the advantage of patience—” Papyrus’ hand suddenly gripped thin air, and Sans was standing two paces to his left. “—is knowing when to _act!_ ” With the last word he slammed the bone down, stabbing it through his own leg.

_“SANS!”_

Papyrus leapt to his brother’s side as Sans collapsed into the snow with a muffled cry. The construct vanished before he hit the ground and marrow began to spill from the wound.

“SANS!” Papyrus cried, scooping his brother into a protective hug. “WHY DID YOU DO THAT!”

“ _f-fuck,_ ” Sans choked out, gripping his leg. Tears were pouring from his sockets— _blue_ tears. Red magic still lingered in his eye, but the fire had died down to mere embers. “stars, that hurts way m-more than i remember. sorry, paps.” He weakly patted his brother’s arm. “thanks for savin’ me.”

Papyrus sniffed back tears of his own, pulling his brother close. Sans hissed as his leg was jostled, and Papyrus hastily drew back.

“I’M SORRY!”

“no, ‘s alright,” Sans gasped. “pain’s good right now. strong emotion. might hold em back for a minute or two.” Sans grimaced, looking down at the wound. “damn, thought it would do more damage. guess i’m not used to having so much hp.” He looked over at Frisk who was laying only a few feet away, bleeding in the snow from a matching wound.

“sorry,” Sans said. “for what it’s worth. starting to get a pretty good taste of what you dealt with. sucks pretty bad,” he chuckled, which turned into another pained gasp. Frisk carefully pulled themself upright, wincing as they shifted their leg. Sans nodded at their wound. “you took that like a champ.”

Frisk gave a smile, tired smile. “I’m used to it.”

Sans coughed out a surprised laugh. “i bet!” His pained smile pulled into a grimace. “even so. even with what i know now. i still don’t regret it. you deserved every one of those deaths and more.”

Frisk bowed their head. “That’s okay,” they said, their voice quiet. “I think I did, too.”

“DEATHS?” Papyrus echoed. The two of them looked at him.

“...later, paps,” Sans said, squeezing his hand. Papyrus must not have looked pleased with the dismissal, as Sans sighed and added, “i’ll explain everything later. promise.”

Papyrus set his jaw, none too pleased by more evasion. But if Sans promised, then he would followed through. “ALRIGHT,” Papyrus reluctantly agreed.

Sans seemed relieved when Papyrus didn’t push it. He turned his attention back to Frisk. “next time you gotta stick closer to him,” he told the human. “can’t let me separate you two. and now chara knows your plan with flowey. you gotta stop being so predictable.”

“What are we supposed to do?” Frisk asked. “We were going to try to take you to—”

“don’t!” Sans cut them off. “stars, don’t tell me! i dunno what to do, but you gotta figure it out on your own. this trick,” Sans said, gesturing toward his leg, “i don’t think it’ll work a second time. you’ve got one do-over here. don’t waste it.”

Papyrus was slow to catch on. “YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT A RESET?”

“A load,” Frisk corrected him. “We can go back to the last save point.”

“OH!” Papyrus felt a flicker of hope. “HOW MUST WE DO THAT?”

“Well… we’d have to shatter my soul,” Frisk said.

Papyrus blinked. He must not have understood them correctly. “BUT,” Papyrus objected, “BUT THAT WOULD MEAN… THAT WOULD _KILL_ YOU, WOULDN’T IT?”

Frisk noncommittally shrugged a shoulder, glancing away. Papyrus next looked to his brother for confirmation, but he wouldn't meet his gaze either.

“look,” Sans sighed. “we’re not in a good spot. the demon kid’ll be back as soon as the pain dulls, your flower friend’s dead, and the kid’s hurt. you guys need every bit of help you can get. you gotta stack the deck against me. please.”

“WE ARE NOT WORKING AGAINST YOU, SANS,” Papyrus said.

“you should be,” Sans said, glaring up at his brother. Determination was starting to gather in his eye once more. “you _should_ be working against me. at all costs. i can’t get to the point where the kid was at. you gotta stop me before i get there. no matter what. otherwise—shit—” Sans cut himself off to grab his leg and press his thumbs into the wound. A strangled scream made it past his teeth, but when he let go a moment later, shaking and panting, some of the red magic had receded.

“that’s it,” Sans gasped, collapsing back against Papyrus. “we’re outa time.”

“I DON’T WANT TO HURT THEM,” Papyrus objected. “ AND I DON’T WANT TO FORGET! THERE MUST BE SOME OTHER WAY.”

“No,” Frisk said. “It’s okay. It only hurts for a second, anyway…” They nodded at Sans, and bunched their hands in the front of their shirt. “I’m ready.”

Papyrus was shaking his head. “I DON’T LIKE THIS. THIS ISN’T RIGHT.”

“sorry, paps,” Sans said, summoning a bone and pointing it at Frisk’s soul. Once again the construct cracked the moment it was summoned, and red began to ooze out. “wish you didn’t have to be involved in all this.”

“N-NO, WAIT,” Papyrus said, desperately reaching out to stop the bone. “I… I WILL DO IT! YOU ARE NOT A KILLER, SANS.”

“heh.” Sans smiled sadly. “what did i do to deserve a brother like you?” He sighed and shook his head. “thanks for the offer, paps, but we both know you couldn’t. now, hold tight.” Frisk squeezed their eyes shut, and Papyrus desperately clung to his brother. This wasn’t right. None of this was right. Why was he so useless?

“love you, paps,” Sans said. Papyrus’ throat tightened. Why did that sound like a goodbye?

“I LOVE YOU, TOO, BROTHER,” Papyrus said, looking away as Sans raised the bone. This wasn’t the end. Sans had made a promise to explain everything to Papyrus, and Sans didn’t break promises. They’d figure out a way to fix everything. Somehow.

Papyrus heard something shatter, and then everything began to dissolve away.

He’d promised.

_He’d promised._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter was originally supposed to end with the "the advantage of patience is knowing when to act" line but then it just sort of... kept going. Boy, I've been struggling with pacing this story.


	8. Save Point 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last Sans POV chapter. Weeeeeeeeeee? .-.

The void seized Frisk and wrapped around their soul. 

_ Quickly now! Ground yourself. _

Frisk instinctively lashed out, repelling the entity with a wall of panicked intent. The void stretched like a rubber band, but snapped back to them once more. 

_ Damn it, child, I am not your enemy. Stop fighting! _

Their suffocating hold on Frisk wasn’t especially convincing of this point—even so, Frisk stopped struggling and tried to rein in their fear. They needed to figure out what was happening.

_ Very good, _ the other said. _ Now, use your Determination to ground us! _

Darkness was clinging to Frisk, but it wasn’t the void, exactly. It was something— someone—within the void. They had a presence, but it wasn’t all there. Like Chara, but… not.

_ Who are you? _ Frisk asked. 

_ Child, we have little time for questions. Do as I say if you want answers.  _ The timeline was already beginning to pull Frisk back, straining the entity’s grasp on Frisk’s soul.  _ Channel your Determination to delay the singularity. Do it now! _

Frisk didn’t understand.  _ Why? What do you want? _

The void churned with fierce intent.  _ I want to save my boys. _

The timeline pulled taught, and the other’s grip slipped away.  _ Damn it all. Too late.  _ Reality began to reform.

_ Find me,  _ they called, already distant.  _ Use your Determination, and find me! _

  
  


Frisk wasn’t given a moment to recover from their disorientation before someone screamed. 

“Don’t!” Flowey cried. “Wait, please no—I—I—whah?”

“It’s okay!” Frisk hurried over to Flowey. Their mind was still spinning from the encounter they'd just had in the void, and their heart was beating quickly within their chest. What had just happened? “It’s okay! We loaded.” 

Flowey’s eyes darted around Papyrus’ house, then back to Frisk. “Oh.” He smoothed over his look of panic with an unconvincing smile. “Sure, I knew that.”

“IS EVERYTHING ALRIGHT?” Papyrus said, coming down the stairs as he finished strapping on his battle body. “THERE IS AN AWFUL LOT OF YELLING GOING ON.”

Frisk forced the questions they had about the void away, trying to focus on the here and now. Sans and Chara had just loaded as well. They didn't have any time to waste.

“We have to hurry,” Frisk said, scooping up Flowey and running over to Papyrus. They grabbed his hand, and he looked down at Frisk in surprised. “Sans said I'm suppose to stay close to you—but he knows where to find us now, so we have to get out of here! Quick, Papyrus, where’s somewhere he wouldn’t look for us?” 

“SANS?” Papyrus said. “I DON’T UNDERSTAND, WHAT—”

“ _ Quick! _ ” Frisk emphasized. 

“I—I HAVE ONE IDEA.” Papyrus wavered, clearly confused by Frisk’s behavior. “OUT BACK THERE IS A SHED, BUT—”

“Let’s go!” Frisk said, tugging him toward the back door. 

“What happened?” Flowey asked as they hurried to the back of the house. 

“Chara came for me after you,” Frisk said. They stumbled out into the snow alongside Papyrus. “But Papyrus stopped them.”

“I DID?” 

“Yeah.” Frisk looked around; there was a large shed connected to the back of the house. “Is this it?” 

“YES,” Papyrus said, “HOWEVER AS I TRIED TO SAY BEFORE, IT IS LOCKED.” 

Frisk darted a look around the yard, feeling increasingly paranoid each second Sans failed to appear. “Is the key back in the house?” 

“NO,” Papyrus said. “IF THERE IS A KEY, I BELIEVE MY BROTHER HAS IT.” 

“Ugh.” Flowey groaned. “Then why even take us here?”

“WELL, AS I WAS SAYING—”

“Nevermind!” Flowey said. “Let me at it.” 

Frisk stepped up to the door and Flowey reached out with two of his vines to snake around the doorknob and lock. The handle rattled as he tried to jimmy it open, and Frisk had to resist the urge to keep glancing over their shoulder. 

“HUMAN, WHAT IS GOING ON?” Papyrus asked. “I THOUGHT WE WERE GOING TO VISIT UNDYNE?”

“We were,” Frisk said, “but we just loaded. Sans caught up to us, and then Chara took over Sans, and Flowey, um…” The lock clicked and the door swung open. 

“...got ripped to pieces!” Flowey said, cheerily completing Frisk’s sentence. 

“WHAT?!”

“It got bad,” Frisk finished, hurrying inside. Papyrus flipped on a light and closed the door behind them. 

“What is this place?” Frisk asked as Flowey scrunched up his face. 

“Ew, smells like puke in here!” 

Papyrus and Frisk ignored the comment.

“MY BROTHER’S WORKSHOP,” Papyrus said, glancing around. It was small, adorned only with a workbench and rusty, half-covered machine. There was a faint, blue spot in the middle of the floor, which Papyrus stared at for a moment before looking back to Frisk. “THOUGH I DO NOT BELIEVE HE DOES MUCH WORKING HERE. HE MOSTLY USES IT WHEN HE WISHES TO BE ALONE… I DOUBT HE WILL LOOK FOR US HERE.”

Frisk nodded, wearily dropping into the seat at the workbench, and set Flowey on the desk. After a moment of hesitation, Papyrus sat down before them. Even sitting on the ground, he was still eye-level with Frisk. 

“So how’d you make it back?” Flowey asked before the silence could settle. 

Frisk grabbed the lip of their chair, and swiveled to one side. “Sans sent me back after Papyrus stopped him. Which is why he said I should stay close to you, I think.” Frisk swivelled the other way, looking up at Papyrus; he still appeared rather uneasy with the whole conversation. “You’re the only one that can break Chara’s control.” 

“I SEE,” Papyrus said, fiddling with his gloves. “THAT IS GOOD, I SUPPOSE. I MEAN—I  _ KNOW  _ IT IS GOOD! I AM GLAD I HELPED. IT IS JUST… THIS IS ALL VERY STRANGE, HUMAN. I DON’T REMEMBER ANY OF WHAT YOU’VE SAID.” 

“I know,” Frisk said, reaching over to pat his shoulder. “It must be weird. Thanks for believing me.” 

“NYEH.” Papyrus puffed himself up, and returned Frisk’s gesture with a fairly forceful head pat of his own. “OF COURSE I BELIEVE YOU! I AM VERY GRATEFUL THAT YOU WANT TO HELP MY BROTHER. IN THE OTHER… TIMES… YOU TWO MUST HAVE BEEN VERY GOOD FRIENDS!”

Flowey snickered at that, but Frisk smiled softly. It was so long ago it had almost stopped feeling real, but they could remember the first few times they’d gone through the Underground. They remembered sharing a burger with Sans, and playing around with hotdogs at his concession stand, and cracking jokes as he tried to get them to fall for the trick telescope (again.) Frisk’s heart ached over what they’d erased. 

“Yeah,” they said. “I think we were.” 

Flowey looked skeptical, but for once didn’t interject with a snarky remark. 

Frisk let out a tired sigh. So much had happened so quickly, and they hadn’t had any time to process. From the last save point it had been a rush of trying to hide from Sans and search for Papyrus—and even though they’d had a night’s worth of sleep it had done little to help their restlessness and paranoia. Not that it mattered; after the fight with Sans, the strange encounter in the void, and subsequently running for cover after the most recent save point, it felt like it had been days since that little bit of sleep. Of course, they weren’t the only one that had to deal with the stress of timelines and loads. 

“You doing okay?” Frisk asked Flowey. They’d been begging for their life not ten minutes ago.

“Tch. You think I can’t handle a little pain?” Flowey scoffed. “I’ve been through  _ ten times _ the resets you have. This is nothing.”

“Okay,” Frisk said. It never helped to disagree with him. “And Chara?”

Flowy glared. “What about them?”

“Well…” Frisk hesitated. “You two use to be…”

“ _ No, _ ” Flowey snarled. “Chara and  _ I _ were never anything. I am not  _ him! _ He was weak.  _ He’s _ who Chara hates. Him. Not me.” Flowey turned away.

“Sorry,” Frisk said. Papyrus looked between the two, but had the prescience of mind not to speak up. “But… it looks like they’re still holding a grudge.”

“Says the one whose  _ soul  _ is on the line.” 

“I guess.” Frisk swiveled around in a circle. “Well, anyway. Thanks for choosing to stick with us.” 

Flowey snorted. “I didn’t pick you guys over Chara. You heard them; they don’t want me around, and I don’t blame them. It’s kill or be killed, right? I’m just trying to stay out of their hair.” There was a space of awkward silence, but before Frisk could think of what to say Flowey turned around, jabbing a leaf at Papyrus. “And at least we’ve got  _ him  _ now so I don’t have to listen to your whining all the time!”

“UM. THANK YOU?” Papyrus said. 

“You’re welcome.” 

Frisk relaxed, smiling faintly. “I’m glad Papyrus is here, too.” 

Papyrus fidgeted from all the attention. “I HAVE NOT EVEN DONE ANYTHING,” he mumbled, appearing both flattered and uncomfortable. 

“And right now,  _ none of us _ are doing anything,” Flowey said. He looked pointedly at Frisk. “What’s your plan? Sit in here forever until Sans eventually finds us?”

“No…” Truthfully, Frisk didn’t have a plan—but they’d just met  _ someone  _ who claimed to. “I think it’s still a good idea to tell Undyne,” they said, turning to Papyrus. “She’s still our best bet for stopping Sans. Can you call her?” 

“OF COURSE!” Papyrus jumped to his feet and pulled out his phone. “I WILL CALL HER RIGHT AWAY!”

He seemed relieved and eager to be of some use, so Frisk felt a little bad that they’d mostly asked to give him something to do. Granted, they were a little curious about how he’d explain the situation to Undyne—or at least, what he understood of the situation—but they had other things to worry about. 

“Flowey,” Frisk said, drawing their attention. “I was wondering… between resets, have you ever met anyone else?”

“What, in the void?” Flowey asked, skeptical. “Pff, no, of course not. There’s nothing there—that’s why it’s called the  _ void _ .” 

“Yeah,” Frisk said. “I’d never met anyone there before, either.”

Frisk could feel Flowey wrestling with his curiosity; he was still annoyed with Frisk, but he thrived on learning new information. In the end, his curiosity won out. “ _ Before? _ ”

“Before the last reset,” Frisk said, “after I first refused to give Chara my soul, we spent a very long time in the void. And eventually I realized we weren’t alone. Something…  _ else  _ was there. I think Chara realized it too, because not long after that they let us reset.” Frisk frowned thoughtfully. “I think it might have scared them. It scared  _ me _ . You never experienced anything like that?” 

“No,” Flowey said, now appearing quite interested. “Nothing  _ should  _ be able to exist there. At least, I don’t think. I still don’t even understand how Chara kept you there. What were they like? The other soul?”

“I… I don’t know if they had one,” Frisk said, trying to remember. Was that why their presence had felt so strange? Was that why it had reminded them of Chara? “But it wasn’t a person or form, really. More like… raw thoughts and intent. It was there again after you shattered my soul, and then again this last save. This time it spoke to me. It said it wants to help.” 

“A creepy, featureless entity that  _ lives in the void  _ wants to help  _ you _ ?” A smile tore across Flowey’s face. “Yeah, I’m sure it has  _ no  _ ulterior motives at all.” 

“I know,” Frisk said. They’d be lying if they said it didn’t make them uneasy. Glancing over at Papyrus to ensure he was still on the phone, Frisk dropped their voice. “But I don’t think it wanted to help me, exactly… It wanted to help Sans—and Papyrus, I think.” 

“Papyrus?” Flowey repeated. “Why him?”

“I dunno,” Frisk shrugged. “Maybe… do you know if they have any family?” 

“Nope,” Flowey said. “At least not since I’ve been around. But if they did, Papyrus would have mentioned it. I mean, he tells me  _ literally everything. _ ” 

Frisk hummed. “Yeah, that’s sort of what I thought. But… I don’t know.” It had felt so  _ possessive _ . Even if they weren’t family, there had to be some connection. And for that matter, if they could help, did it even matter why? 

Flowey squinted at Frisk. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking it can’t hurt to have more help,” Frisk said. “If Undyne can’t stop Sans, then I don’t know if any of us can.”

“Yeah, we'll pretty much be screwed,” Flowey bluntly agreed. “So how’re you going to get its help?”

Frisk grimaced. “Go back in, I guess. I don’t know how else to talk to it.” 

Flowey cackled at that. “Well that still won’t be the dumbest thing you’ve done! But hey, your funeral.” His smile widened. “Literally.” 

Papyrus hung up and returned to Frisk and Flowey. “I HAVE MADE UNDYNE AWARE OF THE SITUATION! SHE IS ORDERING ALL GUARDS—AND MYSELF, OF COURSE!—ON DUTY TO COVER ALL PATROL ROUTES. IT SHOULD NOT BE LONG UNTIL WE LOCATE MY BROTHER. UNLESS,” Papyrus hesitated, “I SHOULD STAY HERE WITH YOU?”

“No, it’s okay,” Frisk said, and Papyrus visibly sagged with relief. “You go search for your brother.” They knew Sans had told them to stay close to Papyrus, but Frisk thought they’d be safe in the workshop at least until the next time they loaded. Which, as it seemed, was to be uncomfortably soon. 

“WHAT ABOUT YOU?” Papyrus asked. 

“Flowey and I are going to work on a plan,” Frisk said, looking at Flowey. He was still smiling wickedly; perhaps he enjoyed his role as Frisk’s personal soul-shatterer a little  _ too  _ much. “If we come up with something, I’ll call you. Okay?” 

“OKAY!” Papyrus gave a salute. “GOOD LUCK, TINY HUMAN!”

Frisk couldn’t help but smile. “Good luck, brave skeleton.”

“NYEH.” Papyrus grinned, standing a little straighter. Then he clapped his feet together, spun on his heels, and was out the door. 

“ _ Brave skeleton? _ ” Flowey repeated as the swung door shut.

Frisk shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt. And I think he’s more stressed about all this than he shows. If a complement helps, then it’s the least I can do.”

Flowey snorted. “You’re right about the first part at least—as long as others are depending on him he puts up a front. It took  _ forever  _ to get him to open up to me. Not as bad as his brother, but he was a tough nut to crack. Guess they both got that much in common.” 

Frisk could see that. Both brothers putting up appearances to comfort the other. It seemed kind of sweet and kind of sad—more so now given the circumstances. What would they do without each other? What would they do if Frisk couldn’t fix everything?

“So,” Flowey said, interrupting Frisk’s thoughts. “Are we doing this, or what?” 

Frisk swallowed their doubts and nodded. “Let’s do it.” They couldn’t lose hope. Now more than ever they needed to stay determined. 

Flowey pulled them into an encounter, and Frisk’s soul bloomed before their chest. They tried to look brave, despite what was coming next. They’d died so many times now it shouldn’t bother them any more. After all, it only hurt for a second.

“Did you save?” Flowey asked, unfurling two thorny vines. 

Frisk focussed on him, trying to ignore the vines. “Just after Papyrus called Undyne.” 

“Try not to die in there,” Flowey said, surprising Frisk. It must have showed, as Flowey rolled his eyes. “I can’t learn about the creepy void thing if you don’t come back.”

“If you say so,” Frisk half-heartedly teased. 

Flowey’s face soured. “Ugh. Can I kill you already?”

Frisk sobered, tensing in anticipation of the attack. They were taking a leap of faith in returning to the void—they”d been held there once before and risked being trapped again. But if that was what it took, they had to try. This wasn’t for them, it was for Sans. For Papyrus. For everyone they’d hurt. 

Frisk set their jaw and spread their arms. “Be back soon.”

 

<3

 

Sans staggered and fell, crumpling beneath the weight of Chara’s rage. They roared through his skull like a maelstrom, rippling with malicious intent that indiscriminately tore at his mind and soul. Sans didn’t bother fighting back; he was focussing all the strength he had on breathing. It came in coughs and gasps, labored and heavy and wet. His vision swam, and he had to wonder: Was this it?

_ That was very, very stupid. _

Sans couldn’t have responded if he’d wanted to. Stars, he was so hot. The Determination was boiling in his bones, its pressure building every second. He felt like he was going to crack. Like he was going to come apart at the seams. He couldn’t stand to bear it for another moment—it was too much. Please, just let it end.

_ Oh, no, that would be too good for you. _

God, he hated humans. Sans clung to that thought, dragging in another breath. He hated them so. Fucking. Much.

_ Yet you won’t let me take Frisk’s soul,  _ Chara said.  _ Is it just to spite me? You don’t even like them.  _

“heh,” Sans managed through a gasp. Even after all this they hadn’t figured it out. It had never been about Frisk. Sans didn’t give a damn about the kid. But Chara had thought they could turn Sans against his brother? Now who was stupid.

_ It always comes back to him, doesn’t it? Your idiot brother.  _ Sans bristled at the words, but had no energy to bite back. _ I’ll never understand your devotion to him. It holds you back. That’s all siblings are good for. _

It had also been pretty good for snapping Sans out of Chara’s control in his most desperate hour. But hey, what did he know?

_ You make a fair point, _ Chara said.  _ Papyrus represents a vulnerability. And vulnerabilities should be addressed. _

“no!” Alarm spiked through Sans’ soul, and he rallied against the pain and exhaustion to lash out at Chara’s overwhelming control. No, no, not Papyrus. He wouldn’t let them lay a finger on his brother—he would rather die. 

Chara dismissively rebuffed the attack.  _ See? This is what I’m talking about. When your family is threatened you’re able to seize some of my Determination to use as your own. I would find this fascinating if it hadn’t become so consistently obnoxious. But as much as I’d love to cut this problem off at the source, I think there may be a simpler solution.  _

_ You warned Frisk to stay with your brother, but they’re not the only human soul in the Underground, are they? I’m beginning to think I may have been approaching this whole scenario backwards.  _ Chara smiled.  _ You know where the six human souls are being kept, don’t you, Sans? _

Sans immediately turned his thoughts elsewhere; he needed a distraction. Of course—pain—pain had worked before, and he had plenty to spare now. Sans curled his hand into a fist and dug his fingers into his palm, causing a fire to rip through his ligaments. The pain took his breath away, and his entire world narrowed in on that burning agony. Yet Sans only clenched harder, refusing to let go, and the pain grew hotter, fiercer, all consuming. He wanted to stop more than anything, but then Chara would take control, and he couldn't let that happen. He had to fight, he had to…

Abruptly, Sans felt something  _ give _ , and his bones shifted in a way they weren’t supposed to move. Sans sucked in a startled breath and tried to open his hand, but the damage was already done. The pain leaked away as the bones lost their structure, dissolving into a numb, melted approximation of a clenched fist. Sans stared at it in shock.

_ Well, _ Chara said, dripping with irritation.  _ If you’re quite done… _

“ah!” A stabbing head pierced through his skull. Sans grabbed his head, bracing against the attack, but the spike of pain was already fading away.

_ The souls are kept in a chamber under the throne room, _ Chara recited.  _ See how easy that could have been? _

Sans slumped forward, cradling his maimed hand. He couldn’t do this. He was so tired of fighting.

_ Interesting. Are you aware your memories are all full of holes? The farther back you go the more tattered it becomes. Honestly, it’s impressive I could pull anything useful from this mess at all.  _

Chara seemed to be waiting for Sans to respond, but there was nothing to say. He’d started noticing the inconsistencies after Chara’s Determination had worked its way into his system, but at this moment it hardly seemed important. 

_ You were quite the scientist back in the day, _ Chara continued. _ So you should know where this leads if your magic isn’t stabilized soon.  _

Of course he did, but Sans couldn’t find it in himself to care. If he melted or turned to dust, at least this would all be over.

Chara tsked in disappointment.  _ Giving up now? Sounds like you need a little more motivation.  _

Against his will Sans’ magic began to churn inside his soul—no, Chara’s magic, not his, but he was caught up in its motion all the same. 

_ What was it you discovered in your experiments? _ Chara asked. _ No more than 50% Determination before the monster’s soul suffered irreversible damage? Now, I’m no scientist myself, but I bet we can get pretty close.  _

Chara drew on his magic and it ignited in both of Sans’ eyes. In the left he could feel the cool, familiar breath of Patience, while in the right… Well, it wasn’t hard for him to guess what color that eye was. 

_ I’d prefer to convert all of your magic over to Determination, of course—regenerating my soul in this manner has been a frustrating and slow process. But I need you to keep it together at least until we absorb a human soul. Can you keep it together, Sans? _

Magic tugged at magic, and Sans could feel some of his Patience being siphoned away. The fire in his right eye grew more intense—first an itch, then an irritation, and finally a burn. Sans tried to ignore it for as long as he could, but before long his socket was consumed with a scalding heat, and Sans clasped his hand over his eye as if to quench the pain. The pressure that had been building in the rest of his body was retreating, but Sans suspected that was only because the Determination was now collecting, far more concentrated, in his soul and eye. 

A hiss of pain escaped Sans’ clenched teeth, but the heat was only getting worse. The burning had spread to encompass half his head, throbbing in time with the panicked beat of his soul, and his breaths were only barely within his control. Stars, he’d never felt pain like this. Even when his ribs had been cleaved in half—even when he dusted—it had at least been quick, and in his last moments his mind had been able to dissociate from the violence. But there was no distancing himself from  _ this _ . How could he, when it was his very essence that was being torn apart?

Sans let out a strangled cry, finally unable to hold it in any longer. 

“s-stop,” he choked out. He was on fire. It clawed at his bone like razors scraping back from his eye, digging deep into his marrow, tearing at his essence in an awful, ever-building pressure. He was a tank, splitting at the seams. A log in the base of a firepit, ready to pop. The moment of ignition before the explosion—

And then he was there—too late—past the breaking point— 

Sans screamed. He screamed as magic burst from his skull, and he screamed as he felt the balance in his soul tip from Patience to Determination. He screamed as his skull  _ cracked _ , finally and inevitably buckling beneath the pressure of Chara’s will, and he screamed, unhearing, as they chuckled to themself,  _ Oops. Too much? _

What followed was an unsettling stillness. Had he the presence of mind, Sans would have likened it to the moment his hand had succumbed to the Determination. The pain was forgotten, replaced with a numb certainty of wrongness. He could sense the approaching crash as clearly as his inability to stop it. There was a sensation of tipping over an edge, of gravity taking hold as his soul lurched in a sickening plunge, and then he was falling. 

The drop was brief and the impact sudden. The force hit all of Sans: his mind, his will, his Patience, his Justice, his hopes and dreams and sense of self—all of it, beneath the pressure of Chara’s Determination, cracked… then shattered.

And the pieces tumbled away. 


	9. The Forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk gets a pep talk

_ Steady, steady!  _

_ I don't know what I'm supposed to do! _

_ Focus on sustaining the now. Anchor us in place to hold off the load.  _

_ How? _ Frisk tried to take hold of something, anything, but they could only feel the timeline slipping through their grasp, already beginning to pull them back to their last save point.  _ Help me! _

_ Use your Determination—it's what brought you here in the first place. Tell me, child, do you control your abilities, or do you let them control you? _

Frisk had never really thought about it. When danger was near a save point was always close at hand, and whenever they faltered they could always count on their Determination to stay the course. Even if it was their magic, they weren't sure if they controlled it.

_ I—I don't know. _

_Stars above, child, the question was rhetorical!_ _What has happened to all your confidence?_ The void wrapped around Frisk's soul in a suffocating grasp, and they had to resist the instinct to fight it off. _This is your soul. This is you. It is the source of your magic and manifestation of your will._

_ I know all that—  _ Frisk started.

_ But do you understand? You have been gifted with the trait of Determination, the most tenacious and powerful of all soul traits. You have used it to cheat death and rewrite the very fabric of reality—yet now you flounder about like a helpless newborn. Why? _

_ I've never done this before,  _ Frisk started again, but the other was not having it.

_ Excuses! Neither had Chara before they froze a reset—and they did that with only a sliver of their soul. The power they wield is but a shadow of your own.  _

_ I guess,  _ Frisk said,  _ but—  _

_ But nothing! Do you have a soul of Determination or don’t you? _

_ I do. _

_ Is your soul full and beating, or a broken shard? _

Frisk felt something spark in their chest.  _ Full! _

_ And are you going to be content with Chara having more mastery over your abilities than yourself?  _

_ No, _ Frisk said fiercely. _ Never! _

_ Then enough with this self doubt! Banish your hesitations. Embrace your conviction. Envision what you desire, and enact your will!  _

Frisk's soul burst to life, a single red star in a dark sky. Overflowing with Determination, they reached across the void, toward the singularity that was pulling everything back to their last save, and seized it with their will. The timeline burned through their grasp and spiraled in on itself, threatening to drag Frisk down with it, but they only gripped tighter and dug in their heels, forcing their magic out and into the temporal vortex. Frisk could feel their intent blend into the timeline, feel it stretch away from them, threatening to strain into existence. 

_ No! _ Frisk said, pulling back.  _ You need to stop! _

And everything was still.

Slowly, cautiously, Frisk withdrew their grasp.  _ Did… did I do it? _

_ Stars above, _ the other said, drifting nearby. Now that the void was silent, the presence of the other entity was more distinct.  _ I didn't actually think that would work. _

_ What?!  _ Frisk rounded on them.  _ But I just did what you said! _

_ Well, yes.  _ The other did not seem at all abashed. _ But I was fully expecting it to take at least a few more tries before you properly executed the technique. Well done. _

_ A few more tries? _ Frisk repeated, aghast. _ I wasn’t going to keep killing myself just to come back here! _

_ No one ever said anything about killing yourself, _ the other said indignantly.  _ In fact, I believe my exact words were to “use your Determination” to return.  _

_ Well,  _ Frisk huffed,  _ I didn’t know you could do that! _

_ Oh? Then how did Chara first trap you here? _

_ They…  _ Frisk grimaced.  _ They used my Determination.  _

The other didn’t need to vocalize their smugness; Frisk could feel it as clear as day. 

_ So, I can come here any time then?  _ they asked.  _ Without shattering my soul? _

_ Oh yes, I’m quite sure you could, _ the other said.  _ Though in general I’d advise against it. Removing yourself from the timeline is not something that should be done lightly in any circumstance. So long as you have anchored a point to return to I expect you will pass through without any trouble, but this deep in the ether, nothing is without risk.  _

Frisk shivered, wondering if that was how the other had ended up here. Had they died, only to find no save point to return to? The idea made Frisk uneasy. Then, another thought struck them. 

_ But you knew it was so risky,  _ they said,  _ why did you tell me to come back? _

The other achieved the void-equivalent of a shrug.  _ I deemed the potential benefits to outweigh the risk.  _

I’m  _ the one at risk!  _

Frisk’s outburst was met with cool indifference.  _ Child,  _ the other said after a space of silence,  _ before we continue with this conversation I feel it is only fair to tell you: I have very little regard for your personal wellbeing. In fact, under different circumstances, I guarantee our interactions would not be nearly so friendly as they are now. _

Frisk sobered at that. The being hadn’t tried to hurt them—yet—but perhaps Flowey’s warning that the other might have less-than-benevolent intentions wasn’t far from the truth. Cautiously, Frisk tried to feel out the intent of the other being, but its will—and very existence—was murky at best. 

_ Is it because of the resets?  _ Frisk asked, already suspecting the answer. 

_Indeed,_ the other said. Their voice remained clinical, but now Frisk could detect an undercurrent of displeasure. _More specifically, your actions within the last reset._ _And before you attempt to defend yourself, I am well aware of Chara’s influence over you during that time. Even so, you had the stronger soul—the capacity to stop them, if you had tried—and so cannot be absolved of responsibility for your actions._

_ I wasn’t going to defend myself, _ Frisk said, their soul sinking.  _ And I am sorry. If that makes a difference. _

_ “Sorry” hardly excuses you of murder,  _ the other said shortly. _ But if you mean to atone for your actions, then now is the time to do so. Will you help me remove that demon child from my son? _

_ Yes!  _ Frisk said, leaping at the opportunity to prove themself. It took another moment for them to process the rest of what the other had said. Frisk blinked.  _ Sans is… your son?  _

_ Clearly,  _ the other said.  _ Papyrus as well, if you haven’t yet put that together.  _

_ Oh,  _ was all Frisk could think to say. Somehow, out of everything they’d recently learned and experienced, this little bit of information was what surprised them the most.  _ I didn’t know they had a dad,  _ Frisk added dummly. 

_ “Dad” wasn’t a term that was generally thrown around the house,  _ the other said.  _ But don’t be absurd; every monster has a maker. Or had, as the case may be.  _

_ Had? _

_ Mm, yes. The tenses become a bit jumbled when you no longer reside within continuity. They’ve forgotten me, at any rate, so past tense seems the most appropriate.  _

Frisk was having a hard time keeping up. Continuity? Forgotten?  _ Who are you?  _ they asked.  _ What happened? _

_ Ah.  _ The other’s leisurely orbit about Frisk gradually slowed to a stop. Unmoving, and without a noticeable soul, Frisk could barely distinguish their presence from the void itself.  _ It was some time ago… not more than a decade, I think, in real time. But in here it’s felt like an eternity. _

The other—Sans’ dad? Frisk wasn’t sure what to call him—fell into a distracted silence. As the moment stretched, Frisk wondered if they should say something to break them out of their thoughts. They couldn’t even begin to guess what the entity was thinking. If it—he?—really was Sans and Papyrus’ dad, and if he was aware of the previous timelines, then his hostility toward Frisk took on a deeper, more unpleasant light. Frisk didn’t imagine a parent would take too kindly to their sons’ murderer.

_ My name,  _ the other finally spoke, slowly and haltingly.  _ Was… is… Gaster. Doctor W. D. Gaster. Funny, that though I am privy to all that transpires within the timeline, I begin to forget myself outside it.  _ They laughed drily, but didn’t sound very amused to Frisk. 

_ It is not a very interesting or relevant story, so I will be brief,  _ Gaster said. _ Years ago I led a team of scientists on a project to free monsters from the Underground. The invention was intended to tunnel through the Barrier—to, in effect, create a spatial distortion that could displace a monster between two points without passing through the intermediate space. Smaller scale experiments proved promising, but extraordinary quantities of magic were required to even attempt surmounting the Barrier. _

_ Unfortunately, we were never given the opportunity to try. During an earthquake the Core failed and caused a magical surge at the lab. The machine became overloaded and I was caught in the discharge. It… activated, I suppose, though only performed half its duty. It blasted me into the ether and displaced me from the present, though there was not enough magic to carry me out the other side. I was stranded here in the void—the space between spacetime.  _

Frisk was beginning to question Gaster’s definition of “brief.” Or maybe “brief” was a concept that didn’t work the same way here in the void. 

_ As if that were not enough,  _ Gaster continued,  _ being removed from continuity had the unfortunate side effect of removing all memory of my existence from the world as well. Not only was I trapped, but none of my colleagues even knew to look for me.  _

_ At first I tried to escape on my own. The void is a sort of magical heatsink, you see, capable of absorbing and diffusing waste magic. When enough of this expended magic entered the void—and if I were close enough to intercept it before it bled away into the dark—I found I was able to use it to interact with the timeline. A whispered word, a faint image of my person—I could achieve these phantom attempts at communication, but nothing more substantial that. At best I couldn’t even physically manifest a metacarpal, let alone an entire body. The amount of magic it would take to extract me would have to be at least that which it took to bring me in.  _

_ So here I have remained,  _ Gaster finished,  _ watching time—and your time loops—progress.  _

When Gaster fell silent, Frisk didn’t know what to say. They had so many new questions they weren’t sure where to start. Why did everyone forget him? Would Frisk be forgotten, too, if they stayed here? If he was still trapped here, how was he going to help Sans?

Frisk opened their mouth to ask all these things and more, but what came out instead was,  _ Um, Mr. Gaster? _

_ Just Gaster is fine. _

_ Oh. Then, Gaster? _

_ Yes? _

_ I’m sorry _ .

Frisk could feel him blink. _ Sorry? _

_ Yeah, _ they said. _ You’ve been here by yourself all this time. That sounds really lonely. I’m sorry. _

Frisk felt Gaster’s surprise in the brief silence that followed—then he gave a quiet laugh.  _ Of all the things to be sorry for.  _

_ I can be sorry for what I did, and sorry for you, too!  _ Frisk objected.

Gaster seemed amused.  _ Apparently so. _

_ I’m going to get you out of here,  _ they continued.  _ After we save Sans. I’m going to come back and help you.  _

_ Your Determination really does know no bounds, doesn’t it?  _ Faint impressions of sad amusement echoed from Gaster.  _ I appreciate the gesture, but you would only be wasting your time. While you are capable of undoubtedly powerful magic, extracting a whole monster from the ether is something else entirely. And anyway,  _ Gaster casually shrugged,  _ I expect any attempt to do so would prove fatal. As I mentioned before, the void acts as a magical heatsink—and what are monsters but beings of magic? My soul has long been leached of all its substance. I expect what’s left of it would shatter upon returning to the timeline. Rather inconvenient, really. _

Frisk felt their own soul sink.  _ Then you’re trapped here forever? _

_ Oh no, not forever,  _ Gaster assured them, briefly raising Frisk’s hopes.  _ My ability to perceive the timeline only extends another year and a half into this reality’s future. I suspect that’s the point at which I die.  _

_ What?! _

_ I think we’ve gotten off track. _

_ You’re going to die?! _

_ Everyone dies eventually,  _ Gaster said, dismissing Frisk’s dismay.  _ Except from you, apparently. Though I doubt even your abilities will last forever.  _

_ But, but if you die… _

_...Then I die, _ Gaster said.  _ And if that is to be my fate, then I’d like to do something useful before I go. Like, for instance, help clean up this mess you’ve caused. You  _ are  _ going to allow me to help, aren’t you? _

_ Of course,  _ Frisk said, reluctant to push back. They could tell when a conversation was being steered in a certain direction—adults did that all the time—but they figured they owed it to Gaster to let him have his way.  _ How, though? If you’re stuck here… _

_ That I am,  _ Gaster agreed. _ But as I’ve explained, that doesn’t make me entirely useless. It has been too long since I’ve last tried to interact with the timeline—overdue, you might say. Given a large enough display of magic, I should think I can enact some influence on reality once more.  _

_ How?  _ Frisk asked. 

_ I have a plan,  _ Gaster said,  _ but it is not guaranteed to work. While the past lays open to me like the pages of a book, the future is ever branching, as impossible to predict as a drop of water in a stream. There are many factors involved in the success of what I have in mind, and should any one of them fail our efforts are likely to result in the death of friends. I tell this to you so that you understand the stakes. You must do precisely as I say. Now. Are you listening? _

Frisk nodded seriously.  _ Yes. _

_ Good,  _ Gaster said.  _ Then here is what must be done… _

Gaster outlined his plan, and Frisk listened intently. There were gaps where Gaster had trouble predicting Chara’s actions, but he at least seemed certain about how and where it should end. 

_...Though getting them there will be difficult.  _

_ Flowey can do it,  _ Frisk said.  _ If anyone can, it’s him.  _

Gaster emanated serious doubt.  _ I fear you’re right, though I have many misgivings about that monster’s trustworthiness. If you’d seen the things he’d done with the timeline when he held the power of resets, you would not have such faith in his alliance. _

_ He’ll help us,  _ Frisk insisted.  _ I know he will. He wants to be good, I think, he just doesn’t know how.  _

Gaster sighed.  _ For the sake of everyone involved, we will have to operate under the assumption you are right.  _

_ I’m right about this, _ Frisk said. Gaster rippled with a laugh. 

_ Hold onto that conviction. We will need every ounce of Determination you can spare. _

_ Right.  _ Frisk nodded.  _ So… is that it? _

_ I’ve said everything I had to say, _ Gaster said,  _ and am prepared to do everything I can do. Are you ready? _

_ I’m ready,  _  Frisk said.  _ And Gaster? _

_ Hm? _

_ Thank you for helping me. Even if you’re not doing it for me. Thank you.  _

Gaster regarded Frisk with unreadable intent.  _ Such a strange child, _ he eventually mused.  _ Now it’s time for you to be off. You’ve work to do.  _

  
  


Frisk opened their eyes to find Flowey staring at them. 

“Oh hey,” he said. “We’re back and you’re not dead. Did it work?” 

“It did,” Frisk said. “We have a plan.”

“We?” Flowey’s face immediately scrunched up in suspicion. 

“Sans and Papyrus’ dad,” Frisk said. “Gaster. He lives in the void and can see the future. I think he can help.”

“Oh, sure,” Flowey said easily. “Sans and Papyrus’ dad. Sees the future. That makes total sense.” Flowey stared for a beat. “What the hell are you talking about?!”

“You don’t remember him, either.” Frisk wasn’t surprised. “Well, it’s a bit of a long story. But he wants to help us, and I think he can. He came up with the plan, mostly. I volunteered you for the important part.” 

Flowey’s expression twisted with distaste. “Why do I have a bad feeling about this?”

“Well,” Frisk smiled, “probably because you’re not going to like it.”

“That wouldn’t be anything new.” Even so, Flowey couldn’t let the mystery linger. “So? What’s the plan?”

Frisk told them, and they were right. Flowey didn’t like it at all. 


	10. Undyne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like dumping the contents of two puzzles together, and then trying to sort through the pieces.

Undyne knelt by the body of a fallen guard to check for dust. A trickle of blood ran out from underneath his helmet and down his face, already dusting over where it had begun to dry. The helmet was dented—presumably the mark of the attack that had ended the fight—but by now it was a pattern Undyne had come to expect. She'd found three other guards left in a similar state: unconscious and with little signs of a struggle. They'd either been caught off guard or were clearly outmatched. At least they’d been left alive.

Undyne might have taken more comfort in that thought if she weren't so incredibly pissed off.

This couldn’t  _ actually  _ be happening. Papyrus’ phone call had been pretty unbelievable by itself, but Undyne had received a similar warning from Alphys the night before, and she knew better than to discount both monsters at once. 

Even so, it seemed ridiculous.  _ Sans? _ It had to be a joke—a very bad joke. He was barely capable of rolling out of bed, let alone… all  _ this. _ On a list of monsters Undyne considered threatening, Sans would have fallen somewhere in the vicinity of Temmie and Modsmol. Yeah, Alphys claimed he’d been a brilliant scientist, and sure, he was supposedly a capable magic user, but he’d never shown Undyne a sliver of that potential. The fumbling call from Alphys about ten minutes ago had been so absurd it had almost made Undyne laugh. Almost.

_“He—he—he’s going for the souls!”_ Alphys had sounded frantic. _“He—he’s heading for the castle now—probably thinks they’re under the throne room—Oh_ _G-god_ , _Undyne, you h-have to stop him!”_

_ “Slow down,”  _ Undyne had said. “ _ Alphys, what’s happening?” _

_ “Sans,”  _ she’d said. “ _ I kn-knew something was wrong, but I—I never would have thought—God, I’m so stupid! I—I’m going to try to get the souls to a secure location, but it’s going to take some time. You h-have to stop him, Undyne. You have to!” _

Undyne had been in Hotland when she’d gotten the call, but by the time she returned to the castle she’d been too late. Upon finding the guards left in the state they were in… Well. She didn’t find the situation funny anymore. 

The Judgement Hall was cast in its ever-yellow light as Undyne strode purposefully through the room, her metal boots clipping across the tiled floor. Their rhythm beat a rapid and steady staccato that echoed through the empty space, building upon itself as if an army of soldiers followed close at Undyne’s heels. Half way through the room her boots scraped to an abrupt stop, leaving the drumming footfalls to slowly fade away. A figure stood in the far entryway. 

“I gotta say,” Undyne said, folding her arms, “when I order you to stop being so lazy, this isn’t what I had in mind.” 

“heh heh.” Sans’ laugh splintered across the room, cracked and strained. It barely held a likeness to the slow, easy chuckles she was accustomed to. The sound raised goosebumps across Undyne’s skin. 

“never could meet your standards.”

“What the hell are you  _ doing _ , Sans?” She took a step forward, but he didn’t move from his place in the shadows. “Alphys says you’re here for the  _ human souls _ ?”

“not here,” Sans said. “guess she alphys must’ve seen me coming. don’t suppose you’d know where the souls might be stored, though? no? well, alphys’ll know. i’m sure i can find some way to  _ dig  _ it out of her, heh.” 

Undyne barely clamped down on a sudden and intense swell of rage. She’d been around Sans enough to recognize when he was making a double entendre—dig it out of her? What the fuck did he mean by that?

“On behalf of your brother,” Undyne said, gritting her teeth with practiced control, “and because I don’t want to believe you’re  _ really  _ this stupid, I’m going to give you one chance to explain yourself—and you better have a  _ damn  _ good reason.”

“reason?” Sans laughed again, and he lifted a hand to his head. “i’ve got reasons. too many reasons. maybe some are even mine—not that it matters who they belonged to, heh. they’re all just pieces now. like one of pap’s…” He faltered, briefly. “...one of his puzzles. so i gotta try them all out until something fits, see?”

Though still angered by Sans’ implied threat against Alphys, it was hard for Undyne to not be unsettled by his behavior. He clearly wasn’t in his right mind, but in spite of his scattered and incoherent explanation there was something earnest in what he was trying to say.

“What are you talking about?” Undyne said. Maybe she could keep him talking. Buy some more time for Alphys. 

“maybe it’s to free monsters from the underground,” Sans said. “that’s a good reason, right? or maybe it’s to save me from dusting. that’s another good reason, i think. one piece is curious. another is scared. one part wants the power. another wants to stop the resets. maybe some of those reasons were mine, maybe none of them were. but none of those ‘why’s really matter.  _ fuck _ , it’s so hot. i don’t got a choice. all this determination....” Sans hunched his shoulders forward and began to walk. “...i gotta drown it out.”

When the light from the stained glass windows finally spilled over Sans’ frame, Undyne hissed in a startled breath. A gruesome crack ran through Sans’ right eye, splitting the bone above and below the socket. Given his low HP Undyne would have thought a wound like that would have dusted him—but the damage didn’t stop there. The bone around his cracked socket sagged like heated wax, drooping the corner of his smile into a grimace, and even as Undyne watched a drop of bone melted from his socket and dripped to the floor. Though his undamaged eye showed only an empty darkness, the other glowed a deep, distinctive red. 

“Holy shit,” Undyne said, taking a step back before she could gather her composure. Monsters weren’t supposed to have red magic. That wasn’t right—that wasn’t  _ natural _ . Papyrus had said something about a human influencing Sans, but at the time she’d just thought he’d been confused. Now, though,  _ now—  _

“What the fuck  _ happened  _ to you?” Sans hadn’t stopped walking her way, and Undyne had to resist the urge to back up. He was close enough that she could feel his intent, now; it percolated the air with his turbulent mental state. Unstable, unfocussed, and—Undyne felt an unfamiliar twist of fear in her chest—hostile. Bloodlust slithered through his intent like coils of a snake. 

“i’d tell you to get out of my way,” Sans said, still walking, “but honestly, part of me’s itching for a fight. see, there’s this one bit that doesn’t want you dead, and another bit that  _ really  _ wants to hurt you.” The malicious intent hit Undyne like a physical blow, cold panic lancing through her limbs and sapping at her strength in the same fraction of a second it took for a spear to spark into her grasp.

“but i guess those two things aren’t at odds. i can do both, right? i mean, i haven’t had much practice lately,” Sans said with a lazy, half-melted grin, “but i’m pretty sure i can wipe the floor without killing you.” 

Undyne slammed the butt of her spear into the floor, using the action to shake off the effects of his ill-intent. “By the power vested in me by King Asgore, and as Captain of the Royal Guard, I place you under arrest for assault and harmful intent. If you don’t want me to kick your ass,” Undyne added with a crooked smile, “I’d suggest you surrender yourself without further resistance.”

An array of splintered, red bones appeared over Sans’ shoulders as he continued forward, and Undyne sighed. Of fucking  _ course  _ this was the one time he didn’t give up.

“Dammit, Sans,” Undyne said, readying her spear and dropping into a defensive stance. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t let you past.” Undyne gathered her magic as Sans lifted a hand and his constructs swiveled to point at her. For a moment he paused, and it seemed as if Sans was going to say something. Then his wrist snapped forward and Undyne was already in motion, anticipating the attack by the swell of malice that accompanied it.

Undyne dove to the side, slashing through the nearest bones with her spear and scattering a cascade of red light across the floor as the constructs shattered. She continued her momentum into a roll, coming out of it with a second spear in hand which she used to deflect another barrage of bones—the blows glanced off her weapon and stabbed into the wall behind her. Before Sans had a chance to launch a third volley Undyne returned fire, throwing one of her spears at Sans.

He didn't bother dodging as it cracked into the ground a pace to his right. Sans glanced down at the weapon.

“you're not taking this seriously,” he observed. “that's a mistake.”

“Just testing the waters.” Undyne straightened. “You don't fight like your brother.”

A flurry of dark expressions passed over Sans’ face, and something dangerous and unstable tremmored through his intent. His skull eventually settled into a scowl. 

“this isn't a sparring match.”

“Oh yeah?” Undyne said. “Then what's the point of this, Sans? What are you trying to accomplish here? If you didn't want to fight you'd just take a shortcut.”

“i already told you,” Sans said, and another set of jagged bones appeared at the ready. Marrow-like rivlets of magic were dripping from their splintered forms. “i have to drown it out. i need an outlet. i need to  _ fight _ .” Sans raised a hand to the maimed side of his face with a pained grimace. “you don’t know what it’s like. it’s burning me up. it’s all i can think about—all i can  _ feel _ . nothing else matters. i have to get it out—i’ll be torn to pieces if i don’t. it’s so fucking hot, undyne. i have to.  _ i have to. _ ” 

His hand clenched as he rambled, fingers gradually digging into the malleable bone around his eye as if he were trying to rip it out. Undyne watched with growing revulsion, too horrified to interrupt. If she’d thought she’d be able to reason with him before, it was now clear that wouldn’t be the case. Sans wasn’t just confused, he was borderline  _ psychotic _ . 

“Sans,” Undyne said, finally finding her voice. Sans jerked his hand away at the sound of his name, pulling away strings of melted bone. Undyne could feel his intent, which had started to wander, clamp back down on her like a vice. Good. As long as his attention was on her, he was unlikely to leave and hurt anyone else. 

_ Like Alphys,  _ Undyne thought grimly. No, she wouldn’t let that happen. His crazed rampage would stop here. 

“I don’t understand what’s happening to you,” Undyne said, “but I do understand that you’re serious—maybe even a threat, so I can’t afford to hold back. You want a fight?” Undyne spread her arms and a dozen spears burst into existence, framing her in a sunburst of green. “You got it.” 

The smile on Sans’ face drew unearily wide, the crack through his eye seeming to stretch it all the way up to his socket. 

“heh. glad we’re seein’ eye to eye.”

Undyne supposed that was some quip about her eyepatch, but she’d stopped listening to what he was saying. Her mind was shifting into tactical mode, already planning out the steps of their fight. Once, when she’d tried explaining how it felt to Alphys, the scientist had compared her style to chess. The art of trying to out-predict your opponent. At the time Undyne hadn’t been convinced that sparing was  _ anything  _ like a stale board game, but now, readying herself for battle, some of the likeness rang true. Every match was different, tailored to the opponent by necessity, even if the beats were the same. She could draw on that familiarity, too. Even this bloodlust she’d felt before. 

When she’d fought the humans. 

And she’d beat them, even if it had cost her an eye. Whatever Sans was, she knew she could handle it. She’d survived this kind of strength before, and could do it again. 

This time Undyne moved first. The spears arched over her shoulders, their fanned arrangement converging on Sans in the span of a soulbeat. At the same time Undyne was in motion, summoning another array of spears as she darted to the side to circle around. Bones clashed with the spears, and chips of both constructs flew away in a hazardous explosion of projectiles. Undyne ducked as red streaked through the debris and a bone whistled past her face. Several of her manifested spears blocked the incoming barrage, cracking beneath the impact, but one made it through her guard and she was forced to skip aside, striking it down with the spear in-hand. Before the dust cleared she launched another volley of constructs Sans’ way, clustering the attack so the forward spears shielded the one in the back. 

Sans blocked these as well, bones jutting from the ground to shatter the constructs in a shower of emerald light, but Undyne had been counting on it. Under cover of the fading magic, the last spear flipped over Sans head, then rushed him from behind. 

His head jerked to the side, noticing the attack at the last second, but there was no time to dodge. The construct ran straight through his chest—and out through empty air as he vanished. 

“what,” Sans grinned, a pace away. “you think i’m just gunna stand there and take it?”

Shit. The shortcuts would make this difficult. Of course she’d expected him to pull it out sooner or later, but she  _ hadn’t  _ expected his reflexes to be so fast. Well, that was a simple enough problem to solve. If he was capable of reacting quickly, don’t give him time to react. 

Undyne slid her grip down to the end of her spear and threw, torquing the staff as it left her grasp and sending the construct pinwheeling through the air. Another spear flashed into her grasp the instant the first left it, and she sent that one spinning as well. Simultaneously, she manifest a dozen more spiraling spears and sent them all Sans’ way. The ones she threw flew straight, while the manifested ones arched through the air, changing directions at her whim while obscuring the thrown constructs. 

Sans didn’t even bat an eye. Instead of raising a defensive wall he opted for a counter attack, taking out each of Undyne’s spears with a lightning-fast volley of bones that rocketed into her constructs with uncanny precision. Somewhere in the midst of cracking magic Undyne lost sight of Sans—she swung her spear to her left, her blind spot, and made contact.

“heh, good guess.” Sans tucked both hands into his pockets, a bone construct parrying Undyne’s blow for him. The bone pushed back against her spear, and another formed just before her gut, stabbing forward. Undyne twisted aside, sweeping her spear toward Sans’ feet in the same move. The splintered bone skipped off Undyne’s chestplate—her spear made contact—and then he was gone. Undyne summoned a second construct and spun in a swift circle, both weapons extended, but Sans had retreated outside her range. 

Undyne caught sight of him by the windows, shifting to his right foot. He glanced down at his left, scuffing it experimentally. 

Undyne straightened, taking the moment to assemble a new array of spears and catch her breath. 

“not used to taking hits,” Sans said, glancing her way. “heh. but i guess you don’t hit as hard as i’d thought.” 

“How?” Undyne wondered aloud. With his HP as low as it was… But of course, it was clear he was no longer operating with his previous handicap. Undyne tried not to think about all the ways a monster’s HP could be increased. 

“i ‘spect i’m somewhere around twenty hp at this point,” Sans shrugged, reading her expression. “at least that’s where it looked like things were headed when i last checked. who knows? maybe it’s higher now.” Backlit from the windows, all Undyne could see of his face was the coal of his glowing eye—but she could  _ feel  _ the smile. “how much hp do you think six human souls will give?”

“Stars, Sans,” Undyne said, at a loss for anything else to say. She might as well have been talking to a stranger. What was  _ wrong  _ with him? How had this happened? And most importantly… how was she going to end this fight without either of them getting killed? 

Her mind raced through their fight, search for patterns she could use against him. No, nothing yet. It was still too early. But there  _ had  _ been a moment of indecision on his part. What was it?

Of course. 

“You know,” Undyne said, “your brother’s worried about you.”

Sans said nothing, but a surge of furious intent burst from him like a thunderclap. 

“He called me earlier, just before you came here,” Undyne continued, weathering the rage that buffeted against her. “He said you were in trouble. Lost. I didn’t understand most of it, but it was clearly bothering him.”

“stop.” The voice was barely a whisper.

“I just don’t understand how you could do that to him,” Undyne said. “He’s your brother. Don’t you care how your actions affect him?”

_ “stop.” _ This time it was louder, terse and strained. His intent belied his restrained response, roiling and boiling over as it tore itself into sharp, dangerous pieces. 

“Or what, Sans?” Undyne demanded. “If you really loved Papyrus—”

_ “shut up!” _ Bones exploded in every direction. Marble shattered from the columns that lined the hall, and the stained glass windows burst into a rain of yellow glass. Undyne dove for cover behind one of the pillars even as its edges were eaten away by a bombardment of bone, the wall opposite her abruptly outlining the column’s contour in a pincushion of red darts. Undyne waited for the attack to let up, but the onslaught continued. 

“shut up!” Sans cried again. “you don’t get to use him against me.  _ everyone  _ keeps trying to use him against me! the kid, chara, now you… do you know what i’ll do the next time i see him?” his voice rose tight and thin, a wire ready to snap. “do you know? I’ll—i’ll—i’ll k- _ kill _ —” Sans broke off with a heavy sob, and the attack stopped. 

Undyne let the dust settle before risking a look out from behind her pillar, nearly chewed in half from the magical assault. 

Sans was on his knees, face covered with both hands; his shoulders shook with quiet sobs. Cautiously, Undyne stepped out from her shelter, summoning a defensive array of spears. Sans didn’t take any notice, and remained in place as Undyne picked her way carefully over the littered floor. 

Jagged remains of glass protruded from the window frames like teeth. Bones were stabbed into every surface of the hall in a stagger display of magic—at her peak, Undyne didn’t think she could summon  _ half  _ as many spears. Even so she didn’t stop, continuing to crunch across the debris as she slowly approached Sans. He only looked up when she stopped before him.

“one part wants him dead,” Sans said, dropping his hands into his lap. Up close, Undyne noticed that his left hand was in a similar state as his skull, melted and dripping. “but another part of me would rather die. how’m i supposed to make sense of that?”

“Generally speaking,” Undyne said, “I’d advise you to go with the instinct that  _ doesn’t  _ involve killing your brother.”

Sans looked at her levely, his eyes empty husks. “then you’re saying i should kill myself instead.”

“Holy hell, Sans,” Undyne baulked. Just when she thought she had a chance to still reason with him, too. “ _ Death _ is not your only option here.” 

Derision returned to fill his gaze. “yes it is. you don’t understand. i  _ have  _ to pick an option. i can’t do nothing—the determination won’t let me. i gotta keep moving forward.” Sans shifted and Undyne tensed. He slowly pushed himself to his feet. 

“i also have to finish what i start.” 

The bloodlust was back, already thickening the air between him. Undyne could feel his resolve had crystallized into a decision, and she didn’t have to guess at what that might be. 

“Yeah,” Undyne said, “I figured you were going to say that.”

The spear stabbed through Sans from behind. 

He gasped, dummly grabbing the spearhead that protruded from his chest, but it dissolved within his grasp. The green magic collapsed inward, disappearing behind his ribs and lighting his shirt from within in a subtle emerald glow. He took a single step back, but no more; the magic dropped from his soul like a heavy cloud, swirling to the floor where it rooted his feet in place. 

“And now it’s finished,” Undyne sighed. 

As much as Sans’ outburst over his brother had been both physically and emotionally troubling, it had provided her an excellent cover for her special attack. He might be powerful, but he wasn’t a tactician. Brute force always fell to experience. 

Sans didn’t seem to think so. 

“heh. dirty trick.” Sans shifted his weight, testing the grip of Undyne’s magic. “stopped my shortcuts, too. nice.”

“They’ll be stopped for as long as I maintain that magic,” Undyne said. Sans didn’t seem too concerned, which Undyne, in turn,  _ did  _ find concerning. She took a step forward, trying to ignore her unease. “And based on experience, that’ll be at least another two hours. You can’t beat me while you’re rooted in one place. It’s over, Sans.”

“over?” he laugh, returning his melted hand in his jacket pocket once more. “that’s hilarious. if you think i need to move to beat you… well.” He chuckled. “i guess it never was a fair fight.”

A crescendoing whine hummed behind Undyne’s head, and a static charge crawled across her scalp. Her instincts screamed  **_Death_ ** , and it was only that sudden spike of impending doom that saved her—Undyne dropped to the floor as a concussive blast tore over her head, searing her vision and whipping up a wind that scattered the hall’s debris. Sans didn’t so much as blink as a beam of white light roared over his head and into the wall behind; when it stopped, when the hole that had been burned into Undyne’s vision sealed over, a three-foot wide crater was left in the castle wall. 

Undyne rolled away, coming to her feet in a stance that kept both Sans and the source of his attack in her line of sight. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. 

“What the fuck is  _ that! _ ” 

The floating skull was bigger than Sans himself, and nearly twice as long. Mirroring its maker it bore one red eye, and between the rows of carnivorous, sharp teeth, a light was slowly growing bright in its mouth. Cracks ran through the giant skull and red magic seeped from the fissures. Until now Sans’ magical constructs had matched what Papyrus was capable of—albeit on a much larger scale, and with the delightful bonus of shortcuts. But this construct—this weapon—was something entirely different. 

“i didn’t really want to use it unless i had to,” Sans shrugged. “was hoping to stretch the fight out; burn through as much magic as i could. but eventually i gotta get going, and i can’t do that with your magic clinging to me. ah, well.” Without a sound, a second skull blinked into existence. “guess it’s time to wrap things up.”

Undyne launched her attack as the skulls fired. She sent half of her spears at the constructs, and the other half at Sans himself—none of them hit their target. One of the skulls fired another beam of light, evaporating her spears mid flight, while the other aimed at her. Undyne ducked behind a pillar, only for the laser to cut through the marble and clip her shoulder; Undyne staggered with a cry, but didn’t stop moving. These attacks weren’t just dangerous—they were deadly. 

A clatter of bone-against-wood indicated the spears she’d sent after Sans had been deflected. It would have taken luck to get a hit in, anyway, but at this point she was just trying to divide his attention. _ Shit.  _ Undyne touched her shoulder, and her hand game away grey-green with magic and dust. It only then sunk in that she’d been on the defensive this whole fight. 

You can’t win a fight by playing defense. 

Rolling her shoulder against the searing pain, Undyne turned sharply and made for the skull blasters. They were duller than they’d been a moment ago—a charging latency?—but were rapidly powering up with their characteristic, ear-piercing whines. Undyne sent a storm of spears down on the nearest one, overwhelming it and crushing it into the ground. The second rounded on her, brighter, too bright, but she jumped just as it opened its jaws, vaulting over its discharge of raw, blistering magic, to strike from above. Undyne swung her spear down and— 

Pain exploded in her side and then her head as she struck the ground and slid, stopping only when she hit the wall. Her head and ribs were screaming and her vision was swirling in senseless circles, but she couldn’t afford to falter. Undyne stumbled to her feet, summoning a spear for support to keep from tipping over. Her chest burned in a way that told her she was bruised, but not broken; the surprise attack hadn’t pierced her armor.

If she didn’t move, however, Sans would get a second try. Without waiting for her vision to settle she pushed off, trusting her instincts to keep her upright and out of harm’s way. A beam of light exploded at her heels the next instant. Well, at least she’d been able to take out one of the skulls. Of course, she should have known better than to focus on the weapons; she needed to cut the ammunition off at the source. 

Undyne rounded a column, making straight for Sans, when she skidded to a hasty stop. Her foe was right where she’d left him, but he was not alone. Hundreds of bone constructs were arrayed to his back, protecting his blind spot, and  _ six  _ more skulls were floating before him, fully charged. Undyne leaned on her spear, taking the moment to catch her breath. 

“Are you fucking kidding me,” she gasped. How much magic did he  _ have? _

“ready to give up?” Sans asked casually. Undyne bristled at his tone; like the fight was already over. Like he had never really been taking it seriously. 

But of course, a part of her already knew. 

“Never,” she growled. Undyne wiped some sweat and dust away from her forehead, then pushed off her spear to stand straight, brandishing her weapon before her. “Not as long as I’m standing.” Undyne wondered if Alphys was watching. She bet she looked pretty cool

Sans grinned. “i was hoping that’s what you’d say.” He tilted his head, and Undyne tightened her grip on her spear. All six blasters fired in unison. 

  
  


 

There was a lot of dust. A crumpled form in the middle of the room seemed to be the source; a pile of dented armor and twisted limbs, too coated with blood and smoke—and stitched with faint sparks of green magic, vainly trying to patch over the worst of it—to make out the state of the monster that lay beneath. They weren’t dead, but sometimes it took time for the last of a monster’s magic to bleed away before they turned to dust. 

“Wow. Is she gunna die?”

Sans turned, and Flowey displayed remarkable constitution in not flinching away as malice rolled over him. 

“stupid of you to be here,” Sans said. “one part of me wants to kill you, and the other part doesn’t care enough to stop it. so.” Sans summoned a bone. “guess that’s what i’ll do.”

“H-hey now! Wait a second!” This time Flowey did retreat, skittering over to the nearest crack in the floor—given the state of the room, these were not infrequent. “You don’t really want to kill me, do ya? Look, I’m on your side! I could finish off that fishface over there—”

“yeah. that’s all you’re capable of, isn’t it?” Sans interrupted. “let others do the heavy lifting, then sweep in at the end to finish off the job. a vulture picking at bones.” Sans grinned wide. “i don’t need anyone picking at my bones.”

“Jeez, if you didn’t want me to, you just could have said. Okay! Okay!” Flowey sunk half into the crack in the floor as Sans took hold of his weapon. “Just hear me out! I’m not working with the kid anymore—I’m on your side! Hell, I might not be brave or loyal, but I’m  _ also  _ not stupid. I know when to throw in the towel.” 

“wow, great speech. you’ve really convinced me. now if you’re done…” 

“Wait wait wait!” Flowey retreated further into the crack. “I’ll prove it! I’ll take you to the human souls!”

Sans paused. “you know where they are?”

“Duh,” Flowey said. He peeked back up. “Alphys’s so cozy with them she practically uses them as throw pillows when she sleeps. They’re only in the castle when Asgore asks for them. That  _ is _ why you’re here, isn’t it?”

Sans was silent.

“Look, I know I screwed up,” Flowey said. “I know I helped the kid. But then they wanted me to help stop you in a way that was  _ basically suicide _ , and that was that. Please, Chara, I want to make it up to you. I’m sorry.”

Sans—or Chara, Fowey still couldn’t tell—stared at them for a moment. Then: “How?”

Flowey blinked. “How what?”

“how did they want you to help?”

“Oh…” Flowey smiled weakly. “Well, it basically involved me sneak-attacking you with my vines and grabbing your soul.”

Sans’ eyes narrowed. “what?”

“Hey, it wasn’t my idea!” Flowey said. “Well, I mean, it kind of was, because I’d figured out in previous resets that if I grabbed your soul you couldn’t shortcut but—hey! Hey! I said no, okay? Water under the bridge!”

Sans was walking toward him. “yeah. thanks for the offer, but i think i’ll just kill you and get the souls from alphys instead.”

Flowey vanished into the crack, moments later popping up again at a safer distance.  _ Safer _ being relative, he supposed. 

“I mean, I guess if you think you’ll  _ last  _ that long,” Flowey said. 

Sans continued to stalk towards him. 

“Sure, if you tear the place apart you’ll find the souls  _ eventually _ ,” Flowey continued. “But do you think you can risk it? I mean, no offense, but you look like hot garbage.” 

He wasn’t exaggerating. Sans’ skull was running like melted wax, strings of bone stretched between his mouth and eyes like cobwebs. The right side of his face was particularly bad; the crack that ran through his eye socket seemed to be widening as the bone lost structure. And that was just what Flowey could see; the instability was undoubtedly spreading through the rest of his body as well. Determination was a real bitch.

Sans stopped in front of the flower. Red dripped from his fractured construct. Flowey flinched as he twitched the weapon, preparing to flee, but instead of striking out the bone crumbled away. Sans tucked his hand into his pocket.

“fine,” he said. “show me.”

Flowey grinned, wide and unkind. “With pleasure.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next is the end.


	11. Determination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the end.

The hallways were dark and cold, illuminated only by a set of glowing, red bone Sans had conjured to light their way. Here and there were marks of the extensive laboratories that had once been—rusted signs on the walls, empty chairs and cots—but a stirred layer of dust covered it all. Sans’ eyes flickered into the shadows of every hallway they passed; nothing stirred in the darkness. 

“sure this is it?” Sans asked. “doesn’t really seem like alphys’ style.” 

“It’s not where she usually works,” Flowey admitted. “But when the souls go on lock-down she tries to get them as far away from the rest of the Underground as physically possible.”

“It feels familiar,” Sans said. It was unclear if he’d even been listening to Flowey. “something about this place…”

“They won’t be easy to get, though,” Flowey continued. “Trust me, I’ve tried. I always had to wait until Asgore called for them. Alphys keeps the souls in some sort of vacuum chamber, I think. Not a single crack leading in. But,” Flowey grinned, “that part shouldn’t be a problem for you, right?”

Sans didn’t reply. He had stopped and was frowning at a dark passage as if his look could peel away the layers of blackness. 

“Hey,” Flowey said. “We going to steal some souls here or just spend the whole night moping around in the dark?”

Slowly, Sans pried himself away and followed after Flowey. They continued without exchanging any more words, muted footsteps and the slither of vines the only sounds to break the silence. Hallways turned into infirmaries, and those back into hallways again. They passed locked offices and empty labs. The size of the abandoned facility rivalled the Core; perhaps even surpassed it. But its employees had long since vanished.

Sans was starting to fidget, restlessness crawling through his intent, when they stepped into a large chamber. Though his constructs only afforded a small bubble of illumination, the extent of the cavern was apparent from how it echoed. 

“Right,” Flowey said, stopping not far ahead. “That should do it.”

Sans wheeled around at the screeching sound of a rusted door being slammed shut. Lights flickered on the next instant, momentarily blinding him; when his vision cleared he found Papyrus and Frisk at the double doors in the midst of latching them shut.

“Welp,” Flowey said as Sans rounded on him. “I did my part. Toodles!”

“ _ traitor, _ ” he snarled. “again! this time i’ll make sure you won’t come back.” A ring of bones sprouted from the ground as Flowey attempted to creep away, pinning him in a cage of red. 

“Crap!” Flowey summoned a ring of bullet constructs, but they skipped pitifully off of Sans’ bones. Sans summoned another bone, long and sharp, to hover over the cage. 

“THAT’S ENOUGH!”

An orange bone shattered through Sans’ red, and Flowey wasted no time in darting through the gap. Demonstrating unparalleled dexterity and cowardice, the flower skittered to the far end of the room and weaseled himself down into a crack. 

“Good luck!” Flowey waved a leaf. “Boy, you guys’re gunna need it.” Then, with a soft  _ pop  _ of displaced air, Flowey was gone. 

Sans appeared over the crack just as Flowey vanished, summoning a bone to hovered over the hole.

“DON’T BOTHER,” Papyrus called. “HE IS GONE. YOUR FIGHT IS WITH ME, BROTHER.”

“With us,” Frisk piped up. Though they were weaponless, their Determination made them hard to miss. 

“heh.” Sans glanced their way, banishing the bone construct. “you two didn’t pose much of a threat before.” But a look of conflict passed over his face, and his intent wavered. 

“F-from what I’ve heard,” a voice spoke over an intercom, “th-they didn’t have m-my help then either.” 

A panel of the wall illuminated to reveal a window that looked in on a small room. The space was mostly filled by a bulky and complicated computer console; Alphys peaked over the equipment with a nervous smile. 

A bone construct crashed into the glass and was instantly vaporized. Alphys let out a startled squeak, then sighed with relief when she realized the glass had held. 

She punched the intercom button. “I-it’s magic proof.”

Sans stared at her for a moment. “shortcut proof, too,” he said. “smart.”

“O-oh. Yeah,” Alphys said, clearly flustered. “G-good thing I thought of that…”

“Alphys,” Frisk called, drawing both her and Sans’ attention. “It’s time to start.”

“R-right,” Alphys said, retreating behind the computer interface. “On it.”

In the shadowed recesses of the room, something began to stir. 

Sans stared as the machine slowly emerged from its hibernation, clanking and humming like a metal beast stretching its limbs after years of disuse. Cables as thick as arms were draped in heavy coils, weaving in and out of the apparatus and vanishing into the ceiling like the strings of a great marionette. The machine was tall, stretching almost to the ceiling, but that was largely due to its current configuration; fashioned like the gaping maw of a skull, two halves of a pod were hinged open to reveal a dimly lit interior. It was spacious and contained a single, inclined seat. By the cuffs and straps that lined the capsule, it was clear the contraption was not designed for the inhabitant’s comfort. 

“i’ve seen this before,” Sans said, still staring. “i—i remember—who was it?” 

“SANS.” Papyrus drew his brother’s attention away from the machine. While Sans had been staring, Frisk and Papyrus had moved cautiously closer. “BROTHER. WE KNOW HOW TO HELP YOU.”

“help me?” Sans face twitched in an unreadable expression. “do you have the souls?”

“No, Sans,” Frisk said. “We’re going to fix you.”

“you don’t have the souls?” Sans’ gaze flicked over to the room Alphys was hiding in. “then you’re wasting my time… and i’ll get them from someone who does.”

A blaster appeared over Sans’ shoulder

“SANS!” Papyrus gasped. The blaster began to charge with an impending whine. “I SAID… THAT’S  _ ENOUGH! _ ”

With a sharp  _ crack  _ the blaster tipped sideways and its beam fired wide, burning a black mark into the wall and ceiling as it clattered to the ground. A second orange bone followed the first, stabbing the blaster through. The weapon shuddered, then burst into fragments of fading magic. Sans rounded on his brother. 

“you shouldn’t interfere.”

“I WILL NOT LET YOU HARM ANY OF MY FRIENDS,” Papyrus declared. 

“heh.” The red flickered like a hungry flame in Sans’ eye. “guess undyne didn’t get the memo.”

Papyrus wavered at this, and Alphys let out a squeak. 

“W-what do you mean?” Even through the electronic tinge of the intercom, her voice was high and strained. “W-what did you do to Undyne?”

Sans didn’t answer. He summoned a second blaster. 

“You go check on her,” Frisk said, tugging on the edge of Papyrus’ cape. “I can hold him off until you come back.”

Papyrus seemed conflicted, but shook his head. “THANK YOU FOR THE OFFER, HUMAN, BUT I CANNOT ACCEPT. UNDYNE IS VERY STRONG—CAPTAIN OF THE ROYAL GUARD—SO I MUST HAVE FAITH IN HER ABILITIES. BESIDES,” he added, keeping an eye on his brother. “I DO NOT THINK WE CAN AFFORD TO TAKE LONG.”

Papyrus was right; the Determination was having dire effects on Sans. Apart from the crack in his eye socket and melting skull, the definition between his bones and clothes were beginning to blur. It was as if his sense of self, both mentally and physically, was starting to disintegrate. 

“Okay,” Frisk agreed. “Then we should probably—” 

Frisk cut off as they threw themself forward, hands and knees scuffing against the floor as they narrowly ducked beneath a bone attack. Sans had taken a shortcut in the middle of their conversation, attacking Frisk from behind. Papyrus summoned two bones, grasping one in each hand, but Sans flickered back before he had a chance to respond with an attack of his own. Papyrus stepped forward and the blaster discharged, its beam cutting a path between Papyrus and Frisk. Papyrus hastily backtracked from the blistering heat and turned his own attack on the blaster. A wave of orange bone constructs rolled through the floor and swelled up toward the blaster, but the weapon floated out of range, already charging for another attack. Papyrus turned back to Sans, and saw he’d taken the opportunity to attack Frisk. The human was rolling, jumping and dodging around everything Sans threw at them with uncanny timing, but with Frisk’s low health it would only take a couple hits to bring them down. Papyrus hurried forward to help, but once again was kept at bay by a barricade of bones. Striking out at them with his own bone-swirds, Papyrus crashed through. 

And the blaster fired again, forcing him back. 

“SANS!” Papyrus cried, frustration boiling over as yet more red constructs barred his way. With a sweep of his bones, he crack several of the constructs in half. “LET ME THROUGH!”

Sans glanced his way, but didn’t respond. His intent was entirely unchecked, seething with a dozen different emotions. When Papyrus called to him it flared, almost tearing itself apart with confusion and pain and hatred. Papyrus flinched back—and more fractured bones sprang up to block his path. 

“you can’t dodge forever,” Sans said, keeping his attention on Frisk. 

“Don’t need to,” Frisk said, jumping over a wave of bones. The blaster fired on them, but Frisk was already darting to the side.

“what are you even trying to accomplish?” Sans said. “you don’t have a weapon.”

Frisk ducked under a flurry of constructs. “Don’t need one.”

“can’t win a fight that way,” Sans said. 

Frisk glanced to the side, then looked back at Sans with a soft smile. “Don’t want to,” they said.

There was an almost imperceptible  _ ping  _ as Sans’ soul turned blue and he was dragged to the ground.

Sans grunted, struggling against the weight to stay on his hands and knees as Papyrus smashed through the last of the constructs that kept him at bay. 

“YOU CANNOT KEEP AVOIDING ME,” Papyrus said, leveling a bone at his brother. “AND I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO SINGLE OUT THE HUMAN, EITHER. IT IS NOT RIGHT.”

Rather than respond Sans struck back, throwing his left hand out toward Papyrus’ chest; flecks of bone splattered from his fingers at the movement as blue magic sparked in his eye and around his brother’s soul. Papyrus planted himself against the magic, sliding backward a few feet before bracing himself with a bone stabbed into the floor. Sans pushed while Papyrus pulled, blue against blue. 

Due to Patience being his primary trait, Sans’ blue magic had always been vastly stronger than his brother’s. While Sans could bend gravity to his will, levitating a snowman as easily as a snowflake, Papyrus could barely manage to stop someone in place. Pitting the attacks against each other was laughably unfair—so both brothers were surprised when Sans’ magic failed first. 

The blue light surrounding Papyrus’ soul sputtered out, and the flicker of blue in Sans’ eye was overwhelmed by red once more. He bowed beneath the pressure of Papyrus’ magic. 

“i didn’t wanna fight you,” Sans said, staring at the ground. His left hand was melting into a puddle, and the strain of the extra weight was beginning to show on his right as well. 

Papyrus hesitated, then took a step forward and eased up on his magic. Some of the tension went out of Sans’ shoulders, but he didn’t try to stand. “I DO NOT WANT TO FIGHT YOU EITHER, BROTHER.”

“but now i have to,” Sans said. “...now you’re going to force me to decide which of us to kill.”

Papyrus blinked. “SANS?”

Sans vanished as Frisk cried out, “Behind you!”

Papyrus whirled around to parry the strike. A wall of bones overwhelmed him, and though several skipped off his battle armor and constructs, many more left gashes in their wake, drawing marrow from the exposed bone along Papyrus’ arms and face. Papyrus weathered the attack, trying to catch sight of his brother through the onslaught. A whining sound from somewhere off to his side told him he wouldn’t be given the chance—Papyrus retreated from the attack, simultaneously pushing against the blue magic he still had wrapped around Sans’ soul. It was enough for him to disengage, and just in time for him to stumble away from the blaster’s attack. Not enough time to dodge, however. 

The beam clipped Papyrus across his back, knocking him off balance and sending him sprawling to the ground. His blue attack dissipated as blistering pain burned through his back. Papyrus remembered to breath, drawing in a sharp and shallow gasp as Sans reappeared. He carried a bone in his hand, splintered and sharp, which he raised above Papyrus’ spine. 

“Wait!” Frisk cried. Sans eyes were empty as he plunged the weapon down. 

The world stretched. There was a jolt of movement, of wrongness, and then everything snapped back. Papyrus was stumbling away from Sans’ wave of bones. The blaster whined in anticipation of its attack. 

“Papyrus, duck!” Frisk called. Without hesitation, Papyrus dropped to the floor as the weapon fired. The blast missed him entirely. 

“what…” Sans stopped, looking around. “...a load?”

“Alphys!” Frisk said. “How long?”

The intercom switched back on. “A-almost there. Just another minute…”

“but you didn’t die,” Sans said, staring at Frisk. “i didn’t attack you.”

“I learned how to load without hurting my soul,” Frisk said. “Gaster taught me.”

Sans face went blank. “...gaster?”

Papyrus got to his feet, taking down the blaster with a volley of bones as it started to recharge. Sans didn’t seem to notice. 

“who…” he raised a hand to his head. “i remember… the royal scientist… he was… be  _ quiet! _ ” he snapped. “i’m trying to think…”

Frisk and Papyrus exchanged a look. 

“Alphys said it isn’t ready yet,” Frisk said. 

“INDEED,” Papyrus agreed. “BUT I THINK… PERHAPS IT MIGHT BE BEST TO NOT DELAY ANY LONGER.”

“Okay,” Frisk said with a nod. “We can do it. I’m right behind you.”

Papyrus pushed against his blue magic, and Sans stumbled to the side. His eyes sharpened back into focus as they caught sight of his brother, and his face darkened. 

“i told you i didn’t want to fight. but you won’t stop pushing.” Sans formed two bone constructs and took them in hand, a splintered, bloody reflection of his brother’s stance and weapons. “the kid can’t keep loading forever.” 

Papyrus closed the distance in a single leap, driving his bones down at his brother as he pushed with his blue magic. Again Sans stumbled against the unseen force, but he recovered quickly enough to block his brother’s blows. 

Papyrus pushed against the parry, but Sans’ guard remained surprisingly firm. Of course, holding the weapons was just for show; the strength came not from Sans’ arm, but from the Determination-infused constructs themselves. Sans smiled as Papyrus’ confusion turned to concern. Sans shoved back, and Papyrus stumbled away. 

“what’sa matter?” Sans smiled. “losing your spine?” 

Papyrus grimaced. “I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE, SANS. YOU DON’T REALLY WANT TO HURT ME. YOU’RE JUST CONFUSED.” 

Sans advanced, striking back at his brother. “hurt? this isn’t about hurt.” He formed another blaster, and Papyrus formed a wave of bones in response, quickly trying to take it down before it had the opportunity to charge. “it’s about trying to figure out what’s right. trying to piece together what i’m supposed to feel. everything’s  _ wrong _ .” he punctuated the word with a jab. Papyrus deflected, backing up. “everything’s overlapped. like different transparencies stuck on together. i can’t make any sense out of it. i  _ need  _ to kill you.” Sans slashed at Papyrus again, and his brother blocked too slow. A thin line of marrow welled at a cut in his arm. Sans stopped in his tracks, staring at the blood. His face dropped in despair. “but i’d rather die.” 

“BROTHER,” Papyrus objected. He took a step forward and then stopped, clearly torn between caution and comfort. 

“maybe i’m doing it backwards,” Sans mused, looking down at the sliver of bone in his hand. “already tried killing you. didn’t get to feel much before the human undid it. but haven’t gone the other way, yet. what do you think?”

Papyrus wasn’t following. “SANS?” 

“guess it’s worth a shot,” he shrugged. Sans flipped the bone around in his grasp and, with an almost casual gesture, stabbed it between his ribs. 

“NO!” Papyrus lunged forward, knocking Sans over in his haste to grab the construct. The two tumbled to the floor, where they briefly grappled before Papyrus pinned his brother down. He snatched at the bone, trying to pull it from Sans’ chest to no avail. 

“stop,” Sans gasped. “let me do it—”

“LET GO,” Papyrus said, prying his brother’s grip from the bones. Sans made feeble attempts to fight his brother off, but Papyrus didn’t pay him any mind. His focus was entirely on the bone construct which, despite the fact Sans was no longer holding it, refused to budge. Sans grunted as Papyrus yanked at the bone, jerking Sans’ ribcage off the ground. Desperate and frustrated, Papyrus tore the front of Sans’ shirt away, revealing the soul that hid beneath. 

Papyrus’ breath caught in his throat as he saw his brother’s soul, stained almost entirely red. The jagged tip of the bone construct hovered just above it, only a hair’s breadth away from piercing the soul. The bone shook of its own volition, inching away and back toward it in an invisible tug-a-war. Whatever force Papyrus was exerting to try to pull it away seemed inconsequential. 

“DECONSTRUCT IT, SANS,” Papyrus begged. Sans was sweating and shaking from exertion—Papyrus didn’t even want to think about if he was trying to push the bone away, or pull it closer. “DECONSTRUCT IT!”

Sans tensed, and then the bone crumbled away. He puddled into the ground in an alarmingly literal manner—his skull drooping and his hands falling limply to his side.

Papyrus sagged in relief when the weapon vanished, but didn’t let himself dwell in the moment. Without waiting for his brother to recover, Papyrus jumped to his feet and scooped his brother up with him. Sans let out a yelp of protest, but hung heavy and limp in his brother’s grasp. Even so, despite his rapidly deteriorating state, bones and blasters formed in protest. They didn’t slow Papyrus down. 

During their fight Papyrus had slowly been progressing them toward the machine, which now only loomed a short distance away. Papyrus dove for it, hoping against hope Sans wouldn’t chose this moment to take a shortcut elsewhere.

Frisk stood in its maw, holding the upper hatch open as they beckoned Papyrus forward. 

“Hurry!” they called. “Alphys! Start it now!”

“I-it’s ready!” she called back. “B-but it’s only meant for one— you two shouldn’t be so close—”

“Start it!” Frisk repeated. Papyrus leapt into the machine, clearing an erratic wave of red bones, and set his brother in the central seat. With the three of them pressed tightly together in the small cavity it wasn’t going to be easy to close, but they couldn’t leave Sans alone. He was still struggling madly, like a crazed animal, and his brother had to hold him in place. Frisk hinged the lid shut around them, pressing close to the seat as Papyrus bent over his brother. A bone stabbed through the roof, narrowly missing Papyrus, and a squeak came over the intercom. 

“We’re okay!” Frisk called. It was uncertain if Alphys could even hear; the sounds of the machine became muted as the contraption hissed shut around them, pressing them close in the dark. Sans and Papyrus’ souls, crimson and white, glowed bright in the small space. “Start it!”

Whether she was responding to Frisk’s plea or finally going through with the plan, Alphys started the Extractor. 

A duct detached itself from the roof and descended upon Sans and Papyrus. 

“Watch out,” Frisk said, reaching up to try to push it around Papyrus. The cable was thick and heavy, but bent around Papyrus’ shoulder as Frisk tugged at it. Papyrus tried to wiggle out of the way, but there wasn’t much space to do so. When the cable had fully extended, Frisk squeezed it between Sans and Papyrus’ chests. The duct wasn’t positioned flat against Sans as a result, but it was as close to his soul as they were going to get, and that would have to be enough. 

Sans must have regained awareness of his surroundings at that point; the hazed lights of his eyes contracted to sharp points at the sight of the cable positioned above his soul, and he redoubled his attempts to fight Papyrus off. 

“no!” He struggled against his brother as the duct began to resonate with a subtle hum. “no, please, don’t! don’t!”

And then with a crackle of light, Sans vanished. 

“WHAT—” Papyrus fell into the open space where his brother had just been.

“Shoot!” Frisk cried. “He took a shortcut. Hold on—” They took a breath and concentrated; the world shifted, jumped, a brief flicker of darkness— 

Sans was back. 

Frisk let out a shaky breath as Sans gasped, looking around. It wouldn’t take him more than a second to figure out they had loaded, and then he’d just take another shortcut—Frisk had to be quick. Squeezing between Sans and Papyrus, they reached up into Sans’ ribcage and grabbed his soul. 

It was hard to say which brother was more shocked. Sans went rigid and his eyelights vanished; Papyrus let out an alarmed cry and grabbed Frisk’s wrist, though he did not try to pull them away. The soul was as smooth and hard as glass, but almost scalding hot to the touch. It took all of Frisk’s willpower to not let go.

“HUMAN!” Papyrus objected. “THAT IS VERY DANGEROUS!” 

“I know,” Frisk said. Sans had stopped fighting back. He was holding very still and very quiet. “I promise I’ll be careful. But he’ll teleport out if I don’t hold him here.” 

Their assurance did not seem to reassure Papyrus. His eyes stayed locked on Sans’ soul as the Extractor began to operate, and its effects finally became noticeable. 

At first it seemed like his soul was stretching, but soon it became apparent that only the color in Sans’ soul was pulling toward the extractor. Bleeding away like ink in water, rivlets of red slowly began to arch out of Sans’ ribs and into the waiting duct. 

Sans jerked as the color started to leave his soul, and his eyelights flashed back on. 

“no,” he growled, fighting back against Papyrus once more, headless to Frisk’s careful grasp on his soul. “no, i won’t let you take it! that’s  _ my  _ determination. i nurtured it—i  _ earned  _ it!”

Frisk grimaced as they were jostled, trying to keep the extractor and soul careful positioned together. 

“It’s over, Chara,” Frisk said. Their posture was starting to make them cramp. “We’re going to extract you from Sans. You won’t be able to hurt  _ any  _ of us again.”

Sans—or Chara—sneered. “you can’t just  _ extract  _ me! you can take my determination, but this piece of junk can’t do anything to  _ me _ .”

“You’re right,” Frisk said. Their chest twisted unpleasantly, and the air hung thick with magic. They could feel something happening. Something changing. “ _ We _ can’t pull you out. But someone else can.”

The shadows pulled darker around the inhabitants of the Extractor. The light of Sans soul flickered, as if faintly obscured by lines of smoke. Frisk couldn’t be certain, but it almost looked like a second set of phantom hands were overlapping their own. 

Sans’ eyes darted around the machine. “what—who’s there?”

Even Papyrus shivered at the shift in atmosphere. “HUMAN…”

“I know,” Frisk said. “It’s okay. This just means it’s working.”

“i don’t know what you’re planning but it won’t—” Sans jerked in his seat. There was a whisper of sound, almost a voice but too soft to make out. “no—let go of me! let go!”

Frisk slumped, keeping their focus on Sans’ soul. The red was streaming out in a thick band, now, and Gaster was holding up his end of the bargain. It wouldn’t be long before it was over. But the discomfort in Frisk’s chest was still growing—sharp and nearly unbearable. A subconscious part of Frisk was trying to repress it, but splitting their attention was becoming difficult. They had to focus on keeping hold of Sans’ soul. 

A momentary lapse of concentration was all it took; with a painful twist, Frisk’s soul was pulled from their chest. Their eyes shot toward Sans, but he was still trying to pull free of Papyrus’ grasp. No, this wasn’t an encounter—Frisk’s soul had been summoned by the Extractor. 

“Uh… Uh oh.” Frisk tried to turn away from the duct’s opening, but what little room there was to maneuver in the Extractor didn’t seem to make much difference. Frisk’s heart jumped as a thread-thin tendril of red began to siphon from their soul. 

Papyrus noticed Frisk’s distress. “OH! HUMAN, THAT DOES NOT LOOK GOOD.”

“Yeah.” Frisk wriggled in place, trying to break the strand of light that tied their soul to the Extractor. It didn’t hurt, exactly, but there was a distinct  _ wrongness _ —almost an acute claustrophobia—to the sensation that was threatening to make Frisk panic. “I’ll be okay,” they said, as much to convinced Papyrus as themself. “Just a few more minutes—”

Sans began to laugh. “you still don’t understand how determination works, do you?”

Frisk grit their teeth, ignoring the taunt. It would be fine. Besides, they had a lot more Determination than Sans, so the Extractor would finish before all of their Determination was lost. Probably.

“that stuff doesn’t grow on trees,” Sans said. “why do you think i had to use you and sans to replenish my determination? Every ounce you lose,” Sans grinned, “isn’t won’t come back on its own.”

“Liar,” Frisk said. But something about their certainty—something about the way their soul ached from the extraction—told Frisk it was the truth. Fear fluttered in their chest. 

“WE SHOULD STOP IT,” Papyrus said, watching Frisk. “WE CAN FIND ANOTHER WAY, WHERE NO ONE GETS HURT!”

“No,” Frisk said, their thoughts racing. Every moment they delayed meant more damage was done—more of their agency stripped away. They couldn’t afford to wait, or think, or find another way. They needed to act/

And they knew what to do. 

“We can’t stop it until every ounce of Determination has left his soul,” Frisk said, meeting Papyrus’ gaze. “No matter what happens to me. Okay?”

It was clear Papyrus didn’t want to agree, and for a moment Frisk thought he would put a stop to everything. But in the end concern for his brother won out, and he managed a tight, reluctant nod. 

“Okay,” Frisk repeated to themself. They looked back at Sans, at his soul, and took a deep breath. Frisk saved—and then they loaded.

Frisk was drawn into the blackness of Between, and pulled rapidly toward the save point waiting on the other side. Stopping it was hard—harder than before, even—but Frisk dug their heels into the void, rallying all their Determination to hold them in place. The stretch of time slowed, and then stopped. 

Surrounded by nothing but dark and quiet, Frisk let themself relax. The strain of the Extractor had vanished, and they could no longer feel their injuries. It would be easy to take some time to rest, but Frisk’s hands were tightly cupped together and they were afraid of letting go. Nervous and careful, Frisk peeked inside—a shaft of pale white light slipped out between their fingers. 

Frisk breathed a sigh of relief as they looked down at the soul, pulsing weak and exhausted in their hands. Its light occasionally flickered, but it was there, it was whole, and not a drop of red stained its color. 

_ You’re going to be okay,  _ Frisk said. The soul softly stirred, its intent (confusion, weariness, relief,) forming a faint miazma around it. 

There was movement in the dark. 

_ You did well,  _ Gaster said. The presence coalesced before Frisk, but he kept his distance.  _ Better than I hoped. Thank you. _

_ Yeah,  _ Frisk said, looking down at the soul. As they watched Sans’ soul began to brighten, his consciousness rousing. _ I’m glad it worked. I wasn’t sure… _

_...If I would help?  _ Gaster guessed. 

_ No!  _ Frisk objected, then hesitated. _ I knew you would help. I trust you. I just meant… Chara. Are they okay? _

Gaster regarded them impassively.  _ Does it matter? _

_ Yes,  _ Frisk said.  _ It matters to me.  _

Gaster swirled with disapproval.  _ You realize they tried to murder my son? That they very nearly succeeded in destroying him—nearly succeeded in both siblings destroying each other? Chara has caused such senseless and selfish harm. They do not deserve your concern.  _

Frisk was quite. They didn’t know how to respond. Of course Gaster was personally invested in securing Chara, and he was right about everything he said, but Frisk couldn’t help but realize they had very little idea of whose hands they had placed Chara’s fate in. Sensing their reluctance, Gaster eventually sighed.

_ Very well. If it means so much. _

A curtain of black pulled back, revealing a small sliver of red. Intent swirled around the soul shard, quickly condensing into the only form Frisk had ever seen Chara take. In fact, Frisk realized, they’d only ever seen Chara here, in the void, where nothing should exist at all. It was a strange thought.

The moment the child saw Frisk they lunged at them—but the void held their soul back, and their movement turned into a stationary tumble. Even so, Frisk shied back. 

_ Let go of me! _ Chara snarled.  _ You can’t keep me here! I got out before and I’ll get out again.  _

_ I don’t think so,  _ Frisk said.  _ Not this time. But I think it’s probably better this way. Here you can’t hurt anyone, and no one can hurt you. You’ve spent a very long time here, haven’t you?  _

_ Why do you care?  _ Chara bit back.  _ You never seemed to want to talk to me before.  _

_ You’re right,  _ Frisk said.  _ I’m sorry. I should have tried to get to know you better.  _

_ Gee, thanks,  _ Chara said, and they gestured dismissively, as if pointing to all of the void, all of their circumstances, and the uselessness of Frisk’s apology in the face of it. 

_ I’ll come back to visit if you like. _ Frisk knew it didn’t mean much, but it was all they had to offer.

Chara scoffed.  _ Visit? You think I’d  _ want  _ to see you after all this? _ Chara laughed.  _ Don’t flatter yourself. _

_ I think you do, _ Frisk insisted.  _ Or, you might someday. It can get pretty lonely here, I think.  _ They looked at Gaster, but couldn’t tell if he was looking back. Maybe the two would keep each other company—Frisk smiled slightly at the absurdity of the thought. 

_ And anyway, _ Frisk added, _ I don’t really think you’re all bad. Just… a little desperate. You were trying to free the Underground, weren’t you? That’s why you were making Sans go after the souls.  _

Chara just glared. 

_ I’ll try to make it happen,  _ Frisk said. _ I don’t know how, but I’ll try.  _

_ You know how, _ Chara said.  _ You’re the seventh soul.  _

_ Yeah,  _ Frisk said. _ I am.  _

_ Then if you really meant it, you’d do what you have to do,  _ Chara said.  _ Otherwise it’s just empty words. _

_ Maybe if that’s the only way,  _ Frisk said, unsure.  _ But I don’t think it is. Or, I don’t think it should be. No one else should have to get hurt for the monsters to go free. We’ll find some other way. _

Chara shook their head.  _ You’re naive.  _

_ Yeah,  _ Frisk smiled halfheartedly.  _ Maybe I am. _

Chara turned away, and the darkness swallowed them up once more. 

_ Was the conversation as enlightening as you were hoping for? _ Gaster asked. Frisk could pick up on the lightly mocking undertone, but chose to ignore it.

_ I dunno,  _ Frisk admitted with a sigh.  _ Maybe I wanted them to apologize, but I wasn’t really expecting it.  _ Frisk looked down at the soul in their hands. Sans was alert now, likely roused by Chara’s outburst, but awash with disorientation.  _ Thanks for letting me talk to them, anyway.  _

_ So long as your curiosity is sated,  _ Gaster said.  _ However, I think it is time for you to be off. It is not healthy for monsters to linger here.  _

_ Oh,  _ Frisk said, pulling Sans’ soul closer as if they could protect it from the void.  _ Right.  _

_ what... what is this? _ Sans said. Through his intent, Frisk could feel him wonder if he was dreaming. Maybe it was best to let him think that. 

Still, their grip on the void lingered.  _ Will you two be okay?  _

Gaster chuckled.  _ We will find a way to tolerate each others company, if for no other reason than necessity.  _

Sans’ soul jumped, his attention swiveling to Gaster. _ i know you… don’t i? _

Gaster didn’t answer. _ But as I said before, it is high time you return to the timeline, _ he said to Frisk.  _ Make sure he is stabilized immediately after the extraction concludes. Tell Alphys—no, of course, she knows what to do. Sometimes I still think of her as an assistant.  _

_ It’ll be okay, _ Frisk assured him. 

Sans’ intent was stirring into a flurry of shock.  _...gaster?  _

_ Take care of your brother, Sans,  _ Gaster said, finally acknowledging his son.  _ And for gods’ sake, let him take care of you for once. _ Frisk felt him give a dismissive gesture.  _ Now, be off.  _

Frisk finally gave in, letting the void slip through their grasp as the timeline resumed its pull on their souls. 

_ gaster?  _ Sans repeated.  _ dad? you’re alive! i remember—wait, no—not yet—dad! _ dad!

Frisk couldn’t have stopped the void’s retreat if they’d wanted to. They were already falling back into the timeline, back into the moment before they’d left it. Frisk grimaced, wishing there was something they could do or say, but there would soon be more important things to worry about than Sans’ family reunion. 

The extractor caught Frisk unprepared, and the magical pull hit them like a punch to the gut as they snapped back into reality. Sans didn’t fare any better, gasping at the abrupt transition before going limp in his brother’s arms. Papyrus cried out in alarm, but Frisk’s focus was on Sans’ soul. It was a pale pink, the last of the red condensing into tendrils of color as they were pulled from the soul. The soul beat weakly and its light was dim, but at least it was whole and pure. A white monster soul, as it should have always been. 

They did it. 

Frisk smiled as they released Sans’ soul and slumped over in the Extractor. After everything, they finally accomplished what they’d set out to do. They’d fixed things. They’d made things right. 

Frisk embraced that thought as their energy was drained from them, and they fell back into darkness once more.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Epilogue. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	12. After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue. Thanks for reading.

The door flew open before Frisk’s third knock had a chance to make contact with the door. 

“HUMAN!” Papyrus exclaimed. “EXCELLENT! I WAS HOPING YOU WOULD ARRIVE SOON. PLEASE, COME INSIDE!”

Frisk was assaulted by the smell of burnt cooking as the stepped in the door; a faintly smoking casserole dish on the table seemed to be the culprit. 

“Been cooking?” Frisk asked, rather unnecessarily. 

“OH, YES,” Papyrus said, excited Frisk had noticed the dish. “UNDYNE ALWAYS SAID THE BEST MEDICINE IS A HOME COOKED MEAL. SO I THOUGHT I WOULD TAKE ONE TO HER!” 

“Good idea,” Frisk said with a smile. They plopped into a seat at the table, peering into the brown, bubbling dish. “I’m sure she’ll love it.” 

“I DO HOPE SO,” Papyrus said, his confidence wavering. “I HAVE NEVER MADE LASAGNA BEFORE, BUT IT  _ MUST _ BE BETTER THAN THOSE AWFUL INSTANT NOODLE CUPS ALPHYS KEEPS BRINGING BY.” He grimace. “I FOUND THE RECIPE IN THE GARBAGE DUMP AND HAD TO TRY—WHY ANYONE WOULD WANT TO THROW AWAY A RECIPE FOR  _ PASTA CASSEROLE  _ IS BEYOND ME!” 

“Unthinkable,” Frisk agreed. 

“I AM WORRIED IT WILL NOT STAY HOT ALL THE WAY TO THE HOSPITAL, HOWEVER,” Papyrus added. “IT WOULD NOT DO TO PRESENT UNDYNE WITH A COLD DISH.”

“Hm. We could stop by her house on the way over?” Frisk suggested, swinging their feet beneath the chair. “That way it will already be at her house when she gets home.”

“OH! WHAT AN EXCELLENT IDEA, HUMAN!” Papyrus glowed. “A HOUSE WARMING PRESENT!”

Frisk wasn’t sure if that’s what a house warming present really was, but they weren’t about to question it. “When are we leaving?” they asked. 

“AS SOON AS THE SPAGHETTI IS READY,” Papyrus said. Frisk’s grin did not go unnoticed.”JUST BECAUSE I MADE PASTA CASSEROLE DOES NOT MEAN I CANNOT MAKE SPAGHETTI AS WELL!” he cried. “AND ANYWAY, ONE CAN NEVER HAVE TOO MANY TOMATO-AND-PASTA RELATED DISHES.”

Frisk nodded at the sage advice as Papyrus went back into the kitchen to check the stove. 

“Where’s Sans?” they asked, noting his absence. Admittedly, it wasn’t out of the ordinary. Frisk had been by to visit Papyrus almost daily over the past week, and Sans had been markedly absent each time. “Is he coming too?”

Papyrus picked up a colander, hesitating. “HE IS IN HIS WORKSHOP,” Papyrus said. “IT IS… UNCLEAR IF HE WILL BE JOINING US. I’VE YET TO GET A STRAIGHTFORWARD ANSWER ABOUT HIS ATTENDANCE.”

Frisk was hardly surprised. He hadn’t been in the hospital for very long, but since leaving it he’d practically been a ghost. Every time Papyrus had come to see Frisk—who was staying with Alphys until Asgore made up his mind what to do with them—Papyrus had fumbled some excuse or another about Sans being busy, tired, or, in one case, missing. Frisk had originally thought he’d come around with time, but now his absence was becoming a pattern. And enough, Frisk decided, was enough. 

“I’ll go talk to him,” they offered. “I bet he just needs a little nudge.” Or maybe a big one. 

Papyrus brightened. “YOU WOULD? THAT WOULD BE MOST EXCELLENT! I SHOULD BE READY TO LEAVE IN ABOUT TEN MINUTES… IF YOU BELIEVE THAT SHOULD SUFFICE?”

“It should definitely suffice,” Frisk said, swinging their feet from the chair to hop down. “Thanks, Papyrus. Okay, be back in a minute!” 

“OR TEN!” Papyrus called.

“Or ten,” Frisk agreed, waving at Papyrus as they stepped out of the house. The door shut the door behind them. 

Snowdin was cold in a refreshing sort of way, each breath clear and sharp like ice. Frisk puffed white clouds into the air as they rounded the house, watching the vapor fade into the sky. Sans’ workshop, disconnected from the house, wasn’t much warmer. Or at least, it hadn’t been the last time they were in there. 

Frisk knocked before inviting themself inside, a gust of warm air rushing out to meet them. 

A metallic  _ clang  _ resonated from within. 

“ow! stars—jus’ a sec.” 

If Sans hadn’t spoken up Frisk might not have known where to find him. Almost entirely empty just a few weeks ago, the shop was now brimming with boxes of papers, tools, and mechanical contraptions. The machine that had once crouched in the corner of the workshop had been unshrouded and dragged out into the middle, where it now stood in the midst of the clutter like a mechanical monolith. Frisk picked their way over to a clearing as Sans wheeled himself out from under the machine. 

“hey paps, what do you—oh—” Sans sat up when he saw his guest. “sorry, wasn’t expecting company. what’s up, kid?” 

It was the first time Frisk had seen Sans since he’d left the hospital. He didn’t look any different from then, granted, but it was still a stark contrast to what Frisk was used to. 

While his form had stabilized after the Determination was removed, the crack in his right eye remained. There was a faint pull along that side of his face, as if his smile was a bit stiffer than it was supposed to be, and his left hand—currently tucked in the pocket of his jacket, Frisk noticed—had been too far gone to save. If any of that bothered Sans, however, he didn’t show it. 

In fact, he seemed to have already developed a workaround; a purple hand construct grabbed a nearby rag for Sans as he stood up, which he used to wipe off some oil. The construct operated with the uncanny precision of a real hand, to the point where it was almost easy to forget he was keeping his crippled one hidden away. 

“Your magic!” Frisk exclaimed, unable to keep from staring. 

Sans glanced at the hand. “oh, this? something i remember my pops making. it was tricky to get the hang of,” Sans admitted. A smile forecasted the incoming pun. “what do you think? pretty  _ handy _ , huh?” 

Tragically, Frisk wasn’t paying attention. “No, I mean, it’s  _ color _ , Sans. It’s purple.”

“ah. yeah.” Sans recalled the magic construct to float in front of him, flexing it into a fist. “perseverance, i guess. sort of a ‘determined patience,’ according to alphys. she said it’s not unheard of for a monster’s dominant trait to shift under, uh,  _ extenuating _ circumstances.” 

“Oh,” Frisk said, only then realizing they probably shouldn’t have immediately dove into the subject of Sans’ soul. “Sorry.”

“nah, it’s fine,” Sans said with a shrug. “it doesn’t bother me. can actually be pretty useful, to be honest. anyway.” The construct vanished, and Sans tucked both hands into his pockets, leaning back against the machine. “i’m guessing you didn’t come here to chat about my magic. what can i do for you, kid?”

Frisk was itching to talk about it, actually, but they had more tact than that. Plus, they were on a mission. 

“Papyrus and I were going to meet up with Alphys to go see Undyne at the hospital,” Frisk said. “She’s going home, today. I wanted to see if you were coming.” 

Sans laughed, glancing away. “oh boy, kid. if you think she’s gunna want to see my face anytime soon, you’re in for a very unpleasant surprise.”

“She knows what happened,” Frisk said. “She knows it wasn’t your fault.” 

Sans sighed, his eyes drifting away from Frisk like a repelled magnet. “yeah. sure. still probably wouldn’t help anything to show up while she’s recovering, you know? ‘s a conversation that can wait ‘till later.”

Frisk was not impressed. “Are you sure you’re not just avoiding her?”

“what?” Sans snorted. “no, of course n—”

“Like you’ve been avoiding me?”

Sans’ gaze shot back to Frisk, eyes bright with a surprise he couldn’t immediately cover. The next moment his eyes dimmed back to normal and he raised a lazy, incredulously eyebrow. “you? why would you think that?”

Frisk stared at him, waiting. Sans maintained the look for all of five seconds before his act crumbled. Guiltily rubbing the back of his head, his eyes flickered between Frisk and a particularly interesting spot on the floor. 

“eh. sorry. i know you deserve more credit than that. i keep forgetting you know me better than i know you.” He sighed heavily, and pushed off the machine. “soooo i guess this is a conversation we’re having now. come on.” He nudged some boxes aside with a foot and squeezed past the side of the machine. Frisk followed, and found Sans next to a couple of clutter-filled chairs which he began to clear off. “might as well do this proper,” he explained, patting the seat.

Frisk hopped up on one, unable to resist swiveling in a full circle before stopping themself to face Sans. He was watching them as he sat down, faintly smiling. 

“It’s okay,” Frisk said before Sans had a chance to speak up. “I understand why you don’t want to talk about it. I.. I’ve kind of avoided talking about it, too. Because talking about it stinks.” They made a face. “But it’d be worse to lose friends over it. At least…  _ I _ don’t want to lose a friend over it. I don’t know how much you remember, but…” They trailed off questioningly. 

“some,” Sans said, rubbing his skull. “i mostly remember the last run when you… yeah.” Neither of them were particularly interested in recalling those memories. Frisk swallowed down a knot of guilt. “but i do have some memories from earlier timelines—and before the timelines started splintering. bits of my childhood, the time i spent working at the lab, what happened to my dad.” Sans smiled sadly. “so, the effects of the determination weren’t all bad. i’m grateful to have those memories back, at least. but i can also remember bits of what flowey did—man, he really screwed with the timeline, and what small parts i can remember probably don’t even scratch the surface. the number of times he reset everything start to make your actions seem pretty inconsequential. it really might have gone on forever if you hadn’t come along.” Sans’ gaze grew distant. 

“you were good, more often than not. laughed at my jokes, indulged in all of papyrus’ whims, heh, even got undyne and alphys to finally hook up. one time you took me to the ruins’ doors and managed to coax out the lady—huh—tori?” Sans blinked, the memory apparently catching him off guard. Sans shook his head with a chuckle. “the queen all this time, huh? waddaya know. the point is,” Sans said, refocusing on Frisk, “i know you did good. i know you tried to make us all happy. i know we were friends. so i want to give you the benefit of the doubt.” Frisk could feel the bomb drop with the slow, inevitable fall of Sans’ smile. “but... i also remember making it to the surface. so i gotta ask. why would you undo all of that?”

It was Frisk’s turn to look away. They tucked their feet up onto the chair and squeezed their legs, searching for the right words. 

There were none. 

“I’m sorry,” Frisk said, hiding their face in their knees. “I don’t know. Even when I did it I knew it wasn’t right. I just… I didn’t want it to end. Everyone was always so busy, and we never got to play anymore, and it just felt like everyone was moving on…”

“everyone  _ was  _ moving on,” Sans said. “settling in with humans wasn’t easy. we all had to find a new place in the world. new jobs, new acquaintances, new cultures. but adapting to new situations is just part of life. The rest of us can’t keep repeating the past. you gotta progress at some point.” 

Frisk sniffed and their throat tightened up. They didn’t trust their voice so they just nodded. 

“aw, jeez,” Sans sighed, and Frisk felt a hand on their shoulder. They risked a glance up. 

“i’m sorry. that was harsh,” Sans said. “after all this it’s easy to forget you’re still a kid. it’s not fair such powerful abilities got dropped in your lap and then we all expect you to use them responsibly one-hundred percent of the time. no one gave you a manual, and everyone makes mistakes—yours just had some pretty severe consequences. but i’d be a hypocrite if i wasn’t willing to give you another chance. so waddaya say?” Sans offered a hesitant smile. “think we can both let go of the past and start moving forward?”

“Yes!” Frisk cried, throwing themselves into Sans arms. 

“whoa! okay.” Sans hesitated, then returned the hug and patted them on the back. Frisk furiously blinked back the threat of tears, burying their face in Sans’ jacket and clinging desperately to the fabric. 

“it’s alright, kiddo, it’s alright,” Sans sighed. “just... no more resets, okay?”

Frisk pulled back, wiping their nose on their sleeve. “Promise,” they said earnestly. “I won’t. I don’t know if I  _ can  _ anymore, anyway.” The put a hand on their chest, over their soul. “After being in the Extractor…” 

“oh.” Sans looked uncomfortable about the turn of the conversation. “did alphys say…?”

Frisk shrugged. “She said I got a lot less Determination now. That my magic won’t be as powerful. I haven’t tried anything yet, but after what Gaster said, I don’t think I should.”

“what did gaster say?” Sans asked, perking back up. 

“That it’s dangerous to be…  _ there _ . Between time,” Frisk said. “He said you need to be anchored to the timeline when you go there, so you don’t get lost. And I guess my Determination was pretty good at doing that. But now, I don’t know.”

“huh,” Sans hummed. His gaze drifted over to the machine, growing distant and thoughtful. Frisk followed the look. 

“What’s it for?” they asked. 

“time travel,” Sans said. “or i guess  _ between  _ time, really. it’ll get me to where gaster is, at any rate.”

“Can you really do that?” Frisk asked. 

“i gotta try,” Sans shrugged, looking back at Frisk. “he’s my dad, you know?”

“Gaster said he didn’t like be called ‘dad’,” Frisk said. 

Sans chuckled. “yeah, he really didn’t. but paps would slip up all the time, and so i’d join him—mostly because i knew it bugged gaster.” Sans smiled fondly at the thought. “you know, he really didn’t know how to be a father, which is why i think he hated that term. he was a genius scientist, but a couple of kids was more than he could handle. heh. funny, isn’t it? sometimes i wonder why he decided to make us at all. whatever the reason, he stuck with it. and i guess in the end, where it really counted, he was there for me. so. now i gotta try to be there for him.”

“You can do it,” Frisk said with absolute certainty. “You’ll help your dad, and then we’ll break the barrier, and then we’ll all move to the surface for real and there will never be another reset.”

Sans started laughing—a true, genuine laugh. “whoa, one thing at a time, kiddo! though i have to say, that’s a nice sounding plan you’ve got there.”

“I’ve got it all figured out,” Frisk insisted. 

“you know, i actually believe you,” Sans chuckled. “breaking the barrier, too, huh?” 

“Alphys has an idea,” Frisk said. “She said the amount of Determination the Extractor took from me and Chara might be enough to act as a seventh soul. She said she talked to you about that, actually.”

The smile on Sans’ face froze, then became tight and plastic. “yeah,” Sans said, drawing the word out. “she might have brought it up…”

“You should help her!” Frisk said. “It’s important!”

“maybe,” Sans said, dropping all pretenses at still pretending to smile. “but i’ve been busy with the time machine, and she probably doesn’t  _ really  _ need my help…”

“Maybe she doesn’t  _ need  _ it, but she probably wants— _ Oh my gosh. _ ” Frisk stared at Sans in disbelief. “Are you avoiding her, too _? _ Are you avoiding  _ everyone _ ?” 

A guilty blush spread across Sans’ bones. “heh, geez, kid, why don’t you lay it on a bit thicker.”

“Sans!” Frisk cried in dismay. “But why Alphys, though?”

“is this really necessary?” Sans said, looking supremely uncomfortable. 

“Wait. It’s still about Undyne, isn’t it?” Frisk realized. 

“alphys has got a lot on her plate,” Sans said. “juggling all this emotional baggage is the last thing she needs. i figured it could wait until after undyne was doing better, at least.”

“Sans! Saaaans. Saaaaaaaans!” 

“yep, that’s my name.” 

“You just said that we’ve got to move on!” Frisk said. “That we’re supposed to let go of the past!” 

“did i?” Sans said. “i feel like you’re twisting my words.”

“Now you  _ have  _ to come,” Frisk continued, jumping out of their chair. They grabbed Sans’ sleeve and gave it a tug. “Come on! You have to go apologize to Alphys and say hi to Undyne!”

“that feels a little backwards,” Sans said, but allowed himself to be pulled from the chair. Frisk began dragging him toward the front of the shop. “really, though, i’m not so sure this is a great idea.”

“Of course it’s a great idea,” Frisk said. “And if it isn’t you can say I made you come.”

“at least it’d be honest.” 

Sans stopped at the door, and Frisk stopped with him. They looked up at Sans, waiting for him to leave on his own accord. He stood there silently for a time, then let out a breath. 

“kid.”

“Yeah?”

He hesitated. “...do you still feel guilty? about… everything?”

“Yeah,” Frisk said, and they noticed Sans slump slightly. “But it gets a little better,” they continued. “Helping other people helps.”

“oh, is  _ that  _ what this is?” Sans teased. 

Frisk smiled. “That’s not what I meant.”

“it helps to help,” Sans repeated, glancing back at the time machine. Distantly, he rubbed at the crack above his eye. After a moment he seemed to realize what he was doing, and he deliberately lowered his arm. 

“well,” Sans shrugged, turning away and pushing the door open. “can’t hurt, i guess. come on, kid. let’s go find papyrus.”

Frisk smiled and took his hand, and the two stepped out into the snow.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's it. The end of Shattered. 
> 
> I'll admit, I've got more material for this story in the back of my mind. Sans' attempt to free Gaster, the fate of Chara and Asriel, the monsters trying to get to the surface... Part of me is even considering turning this into an origin story for G!Sans. But those are all tales for another day. 
> 
> In the mean time, thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed :)


End file.
